This is a Test Don't need to read!
by smallvillechic110
Summary: Nothing here just a test
1. Brave Hearts and Rebellious Souls

Prologue

Jared Padalecki was used to spending the holidays alone. Ever since his parents had dropped him off at Garden Ridge Prep School, he'd pretty much spent his life there. He never really enjoyed spending all that time alone. However, his senior year, his roommate and boyfriend, Jensen Ackles, made the decision to stay behind and not visit his family. Jared and Jensen spent all their time together, and explored their fledgling relationship.

"Everyone should be getting back here tomorrow. This is our last night alone," Jensen said.

"I know, and I plan on using it to my full advantage." Jared had a wicked grin on his face.

"Am I included in your…brilliant plans?"

"Of course you are."

Jared had planned out the perfect evening. He had managed to sneak off campus earlier in the week, and had stolen a few things he would need. They had found a hidden storm drain on the southern edge of the campus not long after they arrived at the school. It led straight to the main road into town, making it the perfect escape route.

"Candles? Are you turning soft, Padalecki?"

"No! Of course not. It's just easier to see down here with them, you know? And besides, flashlights would make this a whole hell of a lot harder to do."

He placed his hands on Jensen's shoulders, leaned in, and touched his lips with a tender kiss. Jensen wrapped his arms around Jared's neck, and returned the kiss, although not so gently. Still wrapped in each other's arms, they worked their way over to the old dusty sofa in the middle of the old basement. They fell onto the sofa with a shared grunt.

Jared briefly broke the kiss. "I plan on making this a night you'll never forget."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~BH&RS~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The green, military truck crossed the border into Texas several miles outside of Brownsville. The river was easily passable at this point, and there weren't supposed to be any patrols this far out. Fortunately, they encountered only a few locals on the Mexican side, who just turned and walked the other way. If they'd been paying more attention, they would have noticed that the driver of said truck was most definitely not Hispanic. They also couldn't see that there were at least eight other men in the trailer of the truck.

The driver, Jack, used the small back roads until they reached the main highway. He pulled off the road and stopped the truck. He and his passenger exited the cab. They walked around the back and pulled up the large canvas covering. Eight men stepped out. The passenger, Luis Cali, climbed up into the truck. There were several large crates stacked against the walls. He walked up to one in particular. He lifted the top. Inside were what looked like explosives and a detonator. He turned to the driver.

"Perfect! This will do. Are you sure that the judge's son goes to this school?"

"Yes, without a doubt. It's also a private school, out of town, and fenced in. It should be fairly easy to take control of the place."

"That's good. Everybody, load up!"

"If we keep to the back roads and smaller highways, we should be in San Antonio in five hours," Jack said.

"Good. Once we get to San Antonio, we can ditch this vehicle. Then we wait. We go in Tuesday morning."

"Yes, of course."

Part One

The dorm building, West Hall, was what someone would typically think of seeing at a college. It was four stories and had about thirty rooms on the top three floors. It could house up to ninety students. The Dean of Garden Ridge Prep, or GRP, Jeff Morgan, and the Headmaster, each had a small apartment on the first floor. The school itself consisted of one large building, North Hall, which contained the offices and many of the classrooms. There was a third building, South Hall, which housed the auditorium, library, and some other classrooms. Across from the dorm was East Hall, where the gymnasium and other indoor sports facilities were. In between the buildings was a large open, grassy area that was called the quad. Other features of the campus were the football field and track located behind the gymnasium. The entire campus covered approximately one square mile and was fenced in. There was a large gate with a security guard at the northeast corner. It was the only widely known way in or out.

The last day of Christmas break was chaotic as all the students that had left to be with their families were returning. It was Saturday, and classes didn't start until the following Monday.

"Come on Jensen, Chris and Steve should be here anytime now."

"Dude, I'm staying here. I've got stuff to do." He sat on his bed, propped up against the wall, writing something one of his notebooks.

"What're you working on anyway?"

"Nothin'…"

"Okay…whatever. See ya later."

Jared closed the door to his room and headed down the three flights of stairs to the lobby. There were people everywhere. In particular, he was looking for Christian Kane and Steve Carlson. The four of them had become best friends and pretty much inseparable.

He walked down the stairs into the lobby and headed toward the front door of the building. He nearly ran Chris down.

"Sorry, Chris. Didn't see you there…"

"That's not a surprise, Jay. Not everyone's as tall as you!" He laughed half-heartedly.

Jared looked around, kind of bewildered.

"Um…Chris. Where's Steve? Thought he was heading back with you."

Chris' smile faltered. He dropped his head and stared at his feet.

"He's not coming back."

"What? Why?" Jared exclaimed.

"Some family emergency. He didn't know how long he'd be gone, but he said he probably wouldn't be back this school year. He said he couldn't tell me anything else."

"That sucks, man!"

"What sucks?" Jensen walked up behind Jared, nearly startling him.

"Steve's not coming back."

Jensen's somewhat happy mood and expression vanished almost immediately. He hung his head. He whispered. "Yeah…sucks." He turned around and walked back into the building.

"Dude…what is up with him, Jay?"

"I'm not sure, Chris. He's been acting kinda strange all day."

Jared followed Jensen back into the dorm building.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~BH&RS~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chris headed back inside the dorm. As he reached the steps, Morgan walked up to him.

"Mr. Kane, I need to have a word with you."

He followed the Dean to a corner of the lobby so they could talk privately.

"What?"

"I just heard from Steve's mother. I'm assuming that you already know he won't be coming back this semester?"

"Yeah…so?"

"Well, for the time being, we aren't going to place you with a new roommate. Just know that if any new students enroll, that may change."

"Thanks, I guess…" Chris was okay with not having a roommate, but was still upset that Steve wouldn't be there.

"Everything will be okay. He'll be back before you know it."

"I hope so."

"Okay, well, that's all for now. We've arranged from some of Steve's things to be shipped back to him."

"Okay." Chris turned around, walked up the stairs and back to his room.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~BH&RS~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jared reached his and Jensen's room. Jensen had been acting strangely all day, and Jared was determined to get to the bottom of his behavior. He opened the door and walked in.

"Um…Jensen…dude…what's up?"

"What do you mean?"

"You've been acting off all day."

"Off? Look…I don't want to talk about it, okay?"

"No, it's not! The last time you acted this way, you had just had an argument with your father…"

Jensen stood up, walked over to Jared, and glared at him.

"I said I don't want to talk about it! Just…just leave me the fuck alone!" He turned around and walked back to the bed.

"Please, Jensen…talk to me."

"I said no! Just leave it alone."

Jared didn't know what to say. At that moment, a thought struck him.

"Is this about last night?"

Jensen looked hurt. He couldn't believe that Jared would think that this was all because of their last night alone together.

"No…damnit…it's not! It has nothing to do with last night…" He sat back down on the bed.

"Then what is it, Jensen? You can tell me anything. You know that."

"I know I said I never would, but it's my mom's birthday. I called home and talked to her, but of course, my dad had to butt in. Why can't he just leave me alone?"

"What the hell did he say to get you all riled up like this?"

"My mom told him about me…um…liking guys…"

"I thought she promised you she wouldn't say anything! What the hell, Jen?"

"You know who my dad is. No one stands up to him, not even my mom. So I had it out with him. I stood up to the bastard, finally."

"Wow, Jen. That's great, I think."

"Yeah, it is, except that now he's cut me off from everything, even the rest of my family. He didn't understand how his son can be gay. I'm supposed to be a man, like him. He said he didn't want to have anything to do with me ever again. That I'm no longer his son." Jensen looked upset, but also a little relieved.

Jared sat down next to him on the bed. "Isn't that what you wanted? Not to have anything to do with him?"

"Yeah, but not at the expense of the rest of my family."

"Look, Jen, give it time. Until then, you've got me." Jared grinned at him. Jensen couldn't help but smile.

Jared put his arm around Jensen's shoulders. Jensen leaned over and put his head on Jared's shoulder.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~BH&RS~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chris' room was across the hall from Jared and Jensen's. He had gone straight to his room as soon as he'd finished talking with Morgan. He had begun to pack some of Steve's things up and stumbled across his guitar. Chris picked it up. He wasn't nearly as good at playing as Steve, but he liked to dabble a little. Truth be told, he could barely hold a tune on it. He strummed a few chords, and then placed the guitar down next to him on the bed. He needed to get out of there for awhile. He decided to go across the hall to his best friends' room.

He knocked on their door, and a few moments later, Jared opened it. Without saying a word, Chris walked right in, pushing past Jared.

"Whoa, Chris. This isn't the best time."

"No, Jared, it's okay." Jensen looked up at Chris from the bed.

"Y'all, I was about to go nuts, so I had to get out of that room for awhile."

"It's cool. I'm feeling much better anyway." Jensen smiled.

"How 'bout some food? I'm starved," Jared said enthusiastically.

"Dude, do you ever not eat? It's not like you need to grow anymore," Chris replied sarcastically.

All three of them laughed. It felt good to laugh. None of them had really had the chance all day.

They headed down to the lobby and through the side door that led to the cafeteria. The cafeteria was between the dorm and the main school building. It was a part of the main building, but was attached to the dorm by an enclosed hallway.

It was already lunch time and many of the students were crowding into the room. The three of them stuck together through the lunch line and then sat at their favorite table toward the center of the room. Most of the seniors hung out together, so many were sitting in the same area. At the next table sat Mike Rosenbaum and Tom Welling. Jared, Jensen, and Chris knew them as the asthmatic clown and the star athlete, respectively. Mike was always joking around, and Tom liked to show off his muscles. The six of them, including Steve, hung out from time to time.

After eating, they decided to head out into the quad. Chris stopped by his room and grabbed the guitar, and a notebook and pen, while Jensen grabbed one of his many notebooks and a pen off his desk in his room. They met in their favorite spot: a large oak tree that was located near the gym. There were a couple of picnic tables and luckily one was free. They headed toward it and sat down.

"This isn't going to be the same without Steve here. He was a much better player than me."

"Yeah, I'm not such a hotshot player myself. We've still got your voice and my words though, so we can still play around a bit."

"Dude, you can't write for shit! It's all sappy crap love songs!" Chris was only kidding; Jensen was a beautiful writer and artist.

"You love my sappy crap love songs and you know it!" Jensen grabbed Chris around the neck and rubbed his knuckles across the top of his head.

"Help! Abuse! Jared, get your boyfriend off me!" He only halfheartedly struggled to get away.

Jared just laughed at the exchange between his friends. After that morning's revelations, he was more than happy to let them make fools of themselves in front of everyone. He continued to watch as Chris found one of Jensen's ticklish spots and began to tickle him relentlessly.

It was at that moment that Jared noticed the Dean and Headmaster walking out the front door. He grabbed hold of each one of their shoulders until he got their attentions, then he tilted his head in the direction of the two men. When they looked and saw them, they stopped their play fighting and got up, sitting on the bench. Luckily, to them at least, it appeared that the two men hadn't seen their antics. They continued on in the opposite direction.

"Y'all, that was close. The last thing I want is to deal with them right now. Dean Morgan is already on my case about sneaking off campus last week. I'm already on probation."

"Jared, dude, chill. What do you think he would have done? Forbidden any of the students from tickling each other ever again?" Chris smirked.

"Yeah, Jared, chill."

"Yeah, y'all are right."

They sat together at the table in silence. Chris picked up the guitar and started to strum the familiar notes of Stairway to Heaven. Jensen rolled his eyes.

"Don't you know how to play anything else?"

"Um...not really…"

They all laughed. They sat playing, singing, writing, and just having a generally good time. It was the first time in awhile that they had really had a chance to do that. They took full advantage.

After dinner, they headed back to their rooms. Chris decided to hit the bed early, so that left Jensen and Jared alone. Jensen went to his desk and grabbed one of his notebooks and a pencil. Jared had gone straight to his bed and grabbed a book off the floor. Most people didn't know it, but Jared really enjoyed a good book. This one, The Outsiders, Jensen had given him for Christmas. Jared was so involved in the book that he didn't see when Jensen had turned around in his chair and began drawing.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~BH&RS~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sunday was a relaxing day for Jared. A trip into San Antonio was scheduled, and most of the students were able to leave if they wished. Since Jared was on probation, he wasn't allowed. Chris had wanted to leave for a bit, and Jensen was going stir crazy, so they went on the little excursion. This left Jared a good bit of the day to himself.

He waited about an hour, and things had gotten really quiet. He left his room and headed toward the cafeteria. He didn't go all the way there, though. There was another door that headed into the back of the kitchen area into a small storage room. He went through the door and shut it behind him. He then went to the back corner of the room and moved the rolling shelves, revealing a door in the floor. He pulled on the latch and opened the door. He walked down the steps and pulled it shut behind him. The steps led into a small, bare room. There was a hole in the brick wall across from him and he ducked down and crawled through it. This opened up into a large basement. He didn't know why it was there, but it was quite large. He figured it could hold the whole student body if need be.

The room had just about anything you'd need if you got trapped in there for an extended period of time. It even had a small bathroom with a shower. The sofa was in the middle of the room, and there were several chairs in different places throughout. There were also some cots that were stacked near one wall, and a few closets with random things thrown in. There was a light switch, but there was a short in the wiring and the lights didn't work.

Since he had found this room a year before, he had begun to stash things down there that he didn't want the Dean or Headmaster to find. Most noteworthy were the porno magazines and alcohol. This was the one place he could go on campus that he wouldn't be bothered. He didn't know if Dean Morgan knew about it. He probably did, but he never came down there. Jared figured if the Dean knew about it, he just didn't care. Only three other people knew about the basement as far as Jared knew. They were, of course, Jensen, Chris, and Steve.

This was also the one place that Jared and Jensen could go to truly be alone. There really wasn't much privacy in the dorm. They had community bathrooms and showers, and there wasn't much in the way of soundproofing.

Jared sat down on the sofa and began to run through the memories he had of that night two days ago. They had just begun exploring their feelings for each other, and their relationship had just begun to get physical. As Jared sat there, remembering the amazing Jensen's amazing hands on his dick, he started to get extremely hard. He unzipped his jeans to relieve some of the increasing pressure on his groin. He pulled his boxers down enough to free his dick and it stood fully erect. He closed his eyes and began to slowly stroke its length. He began to stroke faster as he remembered the feel of Jensen's hand on his dick, the look on Jensen's face when Jared had pulled the orgasm from him. He started stroking harder and faster, just as he had Jensen. His back arched up from the sofa as the orgasm hit him hard and fast. He fell limply back on the sofa and lay there for a time.

After who knows how long, he got up, and took a shower, cleaning himself up. He then cleaned around the sofa. He looked at his watch and realized that he had been down there for almost two hours.

'Shit! I must have fallen asleep!' he thought. He hadn't done what he had originally gone down there to do. He needed to get to his alcohol stash. He had some work to do. He was also worried that someone would notice he was gone and start looking for him. He got to work on his concoctions. When he was done, he put everything into a duffel bag, ran back up the steps and out of the storage room. He then made his way back to the dorm. No one was around, so he sighed in relief. As far as he knew, the room was still a secret.

Jared did know that certain few other students had stayed at the school for the day. Mike was also on probation, so he headed to his and Tom's room with the bag. He knocked on the door, and when Mike answered, he pulled one of the bottles out of his bag. It looked like a normal mouthwash bottle. Mike passed him twenty bucks and then he left. He continued on to four other rooms, and then returned to his room a hundred dollars richer.

Jensen and Chris arrived a few hours later to find Jared asleep on his bed with his book lying open next to him. After Chris left, Jensen grabbed the book and placed it on the table. He then crawled into the bed next to Jared. After the long day out, he fell asleep quickly. They both slept peacefully through the night.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~BH&RS~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Monday morning, classes restarted. Like some high schools, the school day consisted of six class periods. Jared, Jensen and Chris all sat in the back of each class. Jensen paid attention and took notes; Chris paid attention, but spent most of his time doodling out music. Jared slept. He tended to sleep through most of his classes, except math. He actually liked math. Everyone made it through the first day relatively unscathed. Dinner came and went, and they all went back to their rooms.

Jared was sitting at the window when the bell rang. Jensen had been sitting at his desk writing something in one of his notebooks. They turned their lights out, but left a small lamp on. They waited about twenty minutes, to make sure the Dean or Headmaster weren't lurking about, then Jensen left the room. Ten minutes after that, Jared heard Chris leave his room. He waited another ten minutes, grabbed his duffel bag, and then he left as well. They met in the storage room behind the kitchen and climbed down into the basement.

Jared walked to the small lamp and turned it on, then pulled out some matches from the bag and lit some of the candles around the room.

"So, what's this big surprise you have for us, Jared?" Chris asked.

"It's right here." Jared smiled and placed the duffel bag on the small table. He opened the bag and revealed the large mouthwash bottle.

"Dude, are you trying to tell us that we have bad breath or something?" Chris may have sounded serious, but he had a smile on his face when he said it.

"Y'all, this isn't mouthwash! Just try it."

"Okay…whatever you say, dude."

They each grabbed a cup, which Jared had also brought, and poured a small bit of the liquid into each one. All three of them took a sip at the same time.

"Hey, man! This is mouthwash!" Chris gave him a disgusted look.

"No, it's not! I only made it to look like mouthwash. Its vodka and Crème de Menthe for color. This way, we can keep alcohol in our rooms and not get caught. I even sold five more bottles of the stuff. Made me a hundred bucks." Jared smirked when he said that last part.

"Awesome!" Jensen chimed in.

"Please tell me you have an extra bottle of this stuff. I don't want to have to come to your room every time I want some."

"Of course." Jared opened the bag back up and grabbed another bottle, handing it to Chris.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~BH&RS~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Morgan had been sitting on the couch in his apartment, when he thought he heard something outside the door. He didn't think much of it at first, but ten minutes later, he heard it again. When it happened a third time, he finally got up to investigate. He was almost ready to turn in for the night, so he was in his pajamas. He grabbed his robe off the back of the bathroom door, and left the apartment. He turned walked out into the lobby of the dorm, and turned the corner into the hallway, just in time to see a figure heading into to the storage room behind the kitchen. He had a pretty good idea of who it was and decided to wait about fifteen minutes before he spoiled their fun. If he was correct, he knew that there would be no harm in waiting.

After about ten minutes, he headed toward the storage room. He quietly walked over to the secret door and lifted it. He then crept down the steps. He didn't want to alarm the boys. He then made his way to the bottom and then into the hole in the wall. He stayed out of sight for a few moments. He probably would have waited longer if it hadn't been for him accidentally knocking his foot against something. Jensen was the first to notice the sound.

"Shit, someone's here!"

"Y'all hide, I'll try and get rid of the evidence," Jared instructed the others.

Jensen ran to the bathroom, since it was the closest place he could find. Chris ran and hid in one of the closets.

Jared quickly closed the top of the bottle and tossed it in the bag. He then grabbed it and ran toward the other closet. He was too late though. Morgan stepped out from his hiding place.

"Mr. Padalecki…stop right where you are!"

Jared froze. "Damnit!" he mumbled under his breath.

"Might I ask what you are doing down here after lights out, and what's in the bag?"

"Um…well…you see sir…I was…"

Morgan grabbed the bag and opened it. He pulled one of the mouthwash bottles out of it.

"Ah…mouthwash. But it's not really mouthwash, is it, Jared?"

"Sure it is. I was just making sure that my gums were clean and minty fresh." Jared gave a cocky grin.

"Yeah, I'm sure you were. Now, where are your other two friends?"

"What other friends? I was here all by myself."

"Yeah, I'm sure about that too. Come out Mr. Ackles and Mr. Kane."

Reluctantly, they both came out from their respective hiding places and walked toward Jared and Morgan.

"You two may go now. Jared, you stay with me."

Jensen turned. "Jared?"

"It's okay…go on…"

After they were gone, Morgan turned to Jared.

"Is this all of it?"

"Yeah…"

"Don't lie to me. It'll only make things worth."

"Fine! I sold a few more bottles to some of my buddies."

"Okay. You are going to take me to each room and get them back."

"You can't be serious! I'll look like a total dick!"

"Language…and you should have thought about that before you did it."

"Yes, sir."

Jared was totally dejected. First, he couldn't believe he had gotten caught. Then, he had to basically rub it in that he got caught. There was also the possibility that his friends he sold them to would get in trouble too. He was in deep shit.

The first room they went to was Mike and Tom's. Morgan knocked on the door, and very loudly said, "Mr. Rosenbaum and Mr. Welling, Jared Padalecki sold you a bottle of vodka that looks like mouthwash. If you hand it to me before the count of five, you won't get in trouble."

The door immediately opened and a hand reached out with the mouthwash bottle. As Morgan grabbed it, the door closed.

"Look, sir, it's bad enough that I have to do this, but having you here is making it a hundred times worse."

"Okay, I'll make you a deal. You bring me the rest of the bottles, to my apartment in ten minutes, and I'll just wait for you there." He held his hand out for Jared to shake.

Jared looked suspicious, but reached out anyway and grabbed his hand and shook it.

"Deal."

"Ten minutes, my apartment."

"Whatever…"

Jared grabbed the bag from Morgan, and began to run toward the next room. Morgan turned and headed back to his apartment to wait.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~BH&RS~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ten minutes later, there was a knock on Morgan's door. "Come in. It's unlocked."

Jared opened the door, walked over to the table, and threw the bag on top of it.

"That's it!"

"Good, I believe you. Now, I want to have a little talk with you."

"About what? You ready to kick me out yet?"

"No, Jared, I'm not going to kick you out. Three other schools already did that. No. I'm gonna keep you here until you graduate, which, surprisingly, may not be as long as you'd think."

"So…what does that mean then? You're just letting me go?"

"Oh no, Jared! You aren't getting off that easily. I'm giving you kitchen duty, because I know how much you love kitchen duty." He had a big smile on his face.

"Yes, sir…" Jared's shoulders slumped, and he hung his head. "How long?"

"For a month, and then we'll see."

"Okay…is that all?"

"Yeah…you can go on back to your room."

Jared slowly walked out the door and closed it behind him. He made his way back up the stairs and to his room.

When he walked into the room, Jared noticed that Jensen was still awake, so he walked over to his bed and sat down.

"Did he kick you out?"

"No, he just put me on kitchen duty. I really hate kitchen duty."

"Could have been worse."

"Not by much."

Jared began to pace in front of the bed. He stopped suddenly and turned to Jensen.

"Dude, we gotta do something. Something epic! Or else, I'll look like a total douche to the whole school!"

"Man, I'm tired, and we've got a test in the morning."

"Come on! Get dressed! You know you want to. Guilt by association. If I look like a douche, you look like a douche."

"Okay…what do you have in mind?"

"I'm still thinking about it. Like I said, it has to be epic."

"Hmmm…how about cherry bombs in the toilets?"

"Hell no! Too destructive. Oh wait…I've got! We'll need Chris in order to get this done."

"What is it?" Jensen gave Jared a questioning look.

"You'll see." Jared just gave one of his goofy grins.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~BH&RS~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jensen and Chris waited outside the Headmaster's office while Jared crawled through the vent into the office. This particular part of the ventilation system led from the bathroom at the side of the cafeteria and made its way into the main building. It was also larger than normal ventilation systems as it was much older. This wasn't the first time he had snuck into the office (there was that one time when he stole the test key for his English class). Once he made his way into the office through the vent in the ceiling, he unlocked the door, and let the rest of the guys in. They quietly went to work. When they were finished, Jared, with the other's help, closed the vent cover, making sure that it stayed unlocked. Within a couple of hours of them starting, they were back in their rooms asleep. This prank would indeed go down in history as epic. It would be hard to top.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~BH&RS~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was around 8:00 the next morning and Morgan was getting ready to head into town. He was putting Jared's 'supplies' in the trunk of his car when a student ran toward him.

"Dean Morgan! The Headmaster needs you right away, in the quad."

"Okay…tell him I'll be right there." He closed the trunk and made his way toward the quad.

Morgan walked up behind a large group of students who were looking at something. He could see what until he made his way through the crowd. In the middle of the group he saw the Headmaster, surrounded by all the contents of his office. Everything had been moved and replaced in the center of the quad, exactly how it had been in the office, even down to the coffee cup on his desk.

"Good morning, Jeff. Please, try not to laugh."

"I'm trying."

"It's amazing. Everything is exactly how I left it last night. Do you have any idea who could have done this?"

"I have a pretty good idea."

"Jeff, don't be hard on them. I'll give them this. This is much more creative, and less destructive, than cherry bombs in the toilets."

Morgan turned to the crowd and to one group in particular.

"Mr. Padalecki, Mr. Ackles, and Mr. Kane, please come forward." They all stepped forward. "I'm assuming that you are the only ones that had anything to do with this?"

"Um…yes?" Chris confessed.

"Good! I'd hate for your bad influence to rub off on some of your other friends." He gave a glimpse over to Mike and Tom, who stood nearby. Morgan knew that they hung out from time to time.

"Okay, you've gotten away with it this time, but I want the three of you to move everything back into the office where it belongs."

"Yes, sir!" They all said in unison. Jared gave Morgan a mock salute.

"Okay, everybody…there's nothing left for you to see here."

As everyone began to move away and the three guys started moving things back where they belonged, Morgan walked back to his car. He drove to the front gate, waved to the security guard, and pulled onto the main road into town.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~BH&RS~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

At 9:00, a large delivery truck arrived. This wasn't an unusual event at GRP as most deliveries were made early in the week. Since this was a regular occurrence, no one noticed when instead of delivery men with dollies and boxes, large men with guns piled out of the back.

Most of the students were in the cafeteria eating breakfast. None of them were paying attention when a couple of men walked into the room. That changed quickly, when one of the men raised a gun and fired a few shots into the ceiling. Everyone in the room jumped and then went quickly to the floor, most crawling under their tables.

The guys had been sitting toward the center of the room. Jensen leaned out into the aisle and got a good look at the man who had shot up the ceiling. He recognized the gun he was holding. He looked at the other door into the room and noticed there was another man standing there. He was not holding a gun. That man began to speak. He was Hispanic, but spoke excellent English.

"I am now in charge. You do as I say and nothing bad will happen to you. Now, I want you all to stand up and move to that wall." He pointed toward the back wall.

Slowly, everyone began to stand and walk toward the wall. Once there, three of the gunmen began to walk along the line of students. Each was holding a picture, and they were comparing it to each of the boy's faces.

As one of them walked by Jared, he caught a look at the picture. He whispered to Jensen, "Hey, that's a picture of Steve. What the hell is going on?"

When the men were finished walking the group, they each went to the supposed leader. One of them said, "He's not here."

The leader cursed something in what sounded like Spanish, and then turned to one of the other men at his side. "How could this happen? We were told he would be here."

The man said, "We were in transit, and then out of contact. There was no way for my man to get word to us."

"Get me the files on these kids. Maybe we still have some leverage. I'll join you in the office shortly." He then turned to the stunned students. "Take a seat. We may be here awhile."

Everyone did as they were told. The man then turned to two of his other men and whispered something to them so that no one else would hear. They left the room. Several minutes later, they could be seen carrying several wires with them. The leader then stood up and began to address everyone in the room.

"You see these wires being placed around the room? They are also being placed throughout the school buildings. They lead to a very large detonator. If anyone tampers with the wires, the bombs will explode! The only other way to detonate the bombs is by this control on my wrist. You do everything I say, and I will have no reason to press this button."

He held his wrist up so everyone could see it. At about the same time, a small red light came on at the top of the controller.

"See, it is now connected."

He turned to one of his men, whispered something to him, and headed toward the door into the main building. He turned toward the students.

"No harm will come to you as long as you do as you are told."

He turned again and left the room.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~BH&RS~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Garden Ridge was a small town, and the school was about ten minutes outside of it. The closest major city, San Antonio, was only twenty minutes on the other side of town from the school. As Morgan continued his drive, he started thinking about everything that happened last night. He knew Jared was a good kid, he just needed direction. He never really had that growing up.

He arrived at the Sheriff's station and parked his car. He got out and walked around to his trunk, unlocked, and opened it. The sheriff must have seen him coming, because when Morgan turned looked up from the trunk, he was staring right at him.

Jim Beaver had been the Sheriff of Garden Ridge for the past five years. He had become well acquainted with Jeff Morgan and his 'kids' at the school.

"Good morning, Jeff." Jim was not happy to see him.

"Well, good morning to you too, Jim."

"Ya here about one of your boys, again?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact. I was hoping I could find out why one of my boys was able to acquire enough vodka to fill all these mouthwash bottles?"

"I do know that someone stole some vodka from the liquor store a few days ago. Just found out. I was actually about to head out your way."

"Your brother owns the liquor store, doesn't he?"

"Yes, and your point is?"

"I'm not sure it was stolen. How could he have gotten out with so much without being seen?"

"Now, you wait one minute!"

"How bout this? I'll give you these, and we'll just forget anything happened, alright?"

"I don't like this one bit, but fine. We'll do it your way, but if I catch any of them boys stealin', I won't be so easy."

"That seems fair."

Morgan leaned into the trunk to grab the box when one of the Sheriff's deputies ran up.

"Sheriff! Just got a call into 911. The caller reported hearing shots out at GRP."

"What?" Both the sheriff and Morgan yelled at once.

"That's all we know."

Jim turned to Jeff and told him to follow in his car. They jumped into their cars and headed out of town and toward the school.

Part Two

By the time Sheriff Beaver and Dean Morgan arrived at the main gate of the school, all was quiet. They both pulled their cars up as close to the gate as they could and stepped out. They both approached the gate and were greeted with gunfire. They both ran and ducked behind the sheriff's car.

"Damn. I don't know what the hell's goin' on in there, but we're not equipped for this kind of thing."

"So, what do we do now?"

"I've got some calls to make."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~BH&RS~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When the leader reached the Headmaster's office, he went straight to the desk where the files were stacked. He sat down in the chair and began to leaf through them one by one. He had no idea how important these kids' parents really were.

"Jack. We may have some leverage here after all," he said to his American counterpart.

"Shouldn't we call the authorities with our demands?" Jack asked.

He pointed to the files on the desk. "Let me finish with these first. I want to know what all we are dealing with."

"Yes, of course."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~BH&RS~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As soon as the gunmen were sure that they had all the students rounded up, they escorted them all back to the dorm. They were all taken up to their rooms to grab a few things and then gathered on the third and fourth floors. They were then split into groups of six to seven and put into rooms. This way, it would be easier for the gunmen to keep an eye on everyone.

Somehow, Jensen, Jared, and Chris were able to stay together. They were placed in a room with Mike, and Tom, as well as the original inhabitants, Chad Michael Murray and Gabriel Tigerman. The room was covered with movie posters and electronics equipment. There were model cars and airplanes scattered throughout.

"So, this is y'all's room?" Jared asked the two younger boys.

"Yes, this is our room," Chad stated.

"Well, it's our room now."

Jared went to the first bed, motioning Jensen to join him. Mike grabbed the second bed, and Tom followed him. Chris grabbed a spot on the floor between the closet and one of the beds. This left the two younger boys to make do with whatever leftover space there was.

"Thanks a lot." Chad was less than pleased.

"You're welcome," Jared chimed in with a smile.

Tom looked at the two younger boys. He had seen them around, but didn't really know them.

"So, I'm Tom! Who are you?"

Chad spoke up immediately. "Name's Chad. This is Gabriel. And we know who y'all are. Everyone knows the seniors."

"Hey, Jensen, ya hear that? We're famous!"

"Oh, and kiddos, we like our privacy, if you know what I mean."

Chris groaned. "Geez guys just warn me if y'all are gonna need privacy. I'll go hide in the closet or something."

"No problem Chris. Or you know, you could just join in the fun."

"Um…no thanks." He looked at Chad and Gabe, seeing the look on their faces. "The kiddos and I will just go wait in the hall. Oh yeah, we can't do that, there are guns trained on the doors at the moment. Don't think they'll take kindly to us just waltzing out there and hanging out."

"We'll try to contain ourselves." Mike chimed in for the first time. At this point, everyone broke out into riotous laughter, Chad and Gabe excluded.

"Oh come on guys, don't you know a good joke when you hear one?"

They looked at each other, and then at the rest of the older boys. They seemed to relax a little. Gabe turned to Chad and whispered, "I'm not entirely sure they were joking."

Chad returned the whisper, "Me either."

They all relaxed into easy conversation and banter. They all got to know each other a little better. Chris was excited to learn that Tom's father played for the Dallas Cowboys and there was a good chance they would be going to the Super Bowl later that month. Chris told them about his father being a big record producer, and hoped that he'd be able to record an album someday. Chad's father was a developer at a software company, and Gabe's father was an ambassador to a South American country. He didn't really go into a lot of detail. Mike's father was the CEO of a major oil and gas company based in Houston.

When Jared and Jensen were asked about their families, they both stopped smiling and got real quiet. Chris piped in, "We don't talk about that. Sore subject for both of them."

"Its okay, Chris," Jared said. "Neither one of us really has a family anymore. Mine doesn't want to have anything to do with me anymore. They just sent me here and forgot about me. They've got more important things to worry about, with their constant traveling and such. Hell, I'm not even sure what it is they do. I haven't talked to them once since I was left here."

"My father doesn't want to have anything to do with me anymore because he found out I was gay. He also won't let me have any contact with this rest of my family, so we're basically in the same boat."

"We're each other's family. Heck, the closest thing we have to a father right now is Dean Morgan." That put a smile on their faces.

"Wow, guys, we're sorry we brought it up," Tom apologized.

"It's okay, I guess. Actually feels a little better to talk about it." Jared seemed to bounce back rather quickly. Jensen, on the other hand, was still down. Jared put his arm around his shoulders and placed a light kiss on his forehead.

"So…um…how long have y'all been…together?" Gabe asked timidly. Chad elbowed him in the side. "What are you doing?"

"No, it's cool. No telling how long we're going to be roomies. Let's get everything out in the open," Jared said coolly. "We've been roommates for two years, since I got here. We hated each other at first."

"Oh, god did we ever!"

"But after a few months, we decided, to our mutual benefits, that we should at least try to get along. Plus, Jensen here is way smart, and he's good at English. He is a song writer, after all."

"Shut up…"

Jared giggled. "I was good at math, so we did each other's homework. Then we began to hang out more outside of our room. After awhile, one thing led to another and well…"

"There's a lot more to it, but that's it in a nutshell. There are still times when I can't stand to be around him, like when he gets us all in trouble."

"Hey, y'all still owe us our twenty bucks back!" Mike jumped in.

"Yeah, whatever. I still tend to get myself into more trouble than any of you. It's what I'm good at, or so I'm told. And I'd never intentionally get any of y'all into trouble, especially you Jensen."

"I know. Besides, some of the stuff can be fun." Everyone looked at Jensen and then broke out into riotous laughter once again.

"Okay…how about y'all?" Chad directed at Mike and Tom.

"Oh, we're not together."

"Sure you're not!" Jared joked.

"Um…okay…fine…a little over a year now," Mike said. "And it's been the best time of my life. Great sex and…"

"Whoa…way more info than we needed, thanks!" Chris jumped in quickly. "I don't think any of us want to hear about your sex life."

Tom was a red as the t-shirt he was wearing. He punched Mike in the arm and glared at him.

"Okay, sweetheart, I was just boasting about how wonderful you are. No need to hit me."

Tom continued to glare, but there was a hint of a smile coming across his face. Things were still good.

They then broke back into more easy conversation for awhile. Before they knew it, the sun was beginning to go down. They were then greeted with a pounding on the door. Gabe got up and answered the door.

"Come with me. Time to eat." The man continued to point the gun into the room.

They filed out of the room one at a time. Jensen staying close to Jared and Tom staying close to Mike. The others hung back a little. They were soon joined by other students on the floor and were all herded back to the cafeteria.

Once everyone had their food and was seated, the leader walked into the room. He then began to count all of the students. As soon as he was done, he left the room, leaving the students and Headmaster with just three of the other gunmen. They were given thirty minutes and then led back to their rooms.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~BH&RS~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The Sheriff's station was bustling with activity. As soon as Sheriff Beaver and Jeff had made it back to the station, the sheriff had made several phone calls. Within an hour, agents from the FBI and Army officials had crowded into the small building.

Lead FBI special agent Charles Whitfield was trying to get everything organized. He, along with Army General Fred Lahne and Sheriff Beaver were standing together in the center of the room when one of the phones rang. Everyone got quiet.

"Are the trackers in place?" Agent Whitfield asked.

"Yes, sir," a voice said from the crowded room.

"You may answer the phone, Sheriff."

He picked up the phone. "Garden Ridge Sheriff's department, this is Sheriff Beaver speaking."

"This is Luis Cali, and as you probably already know, I am now in charge of the school."

"Yes, we know."

"I have a list of demands that I would like met. If everything is done as I say, no one will be harmed."

The sheriff pushed the speaker phone button so that everyone in the room could hear.

"Okay…I'm ready."

"First and most importantly, I want my father, Enrique Cali, released from prison. Second, I want him brought here to the school. Third, I want transportation for me, my father, and my men to the closest airport. There, a plane should be waiting for us with one million American dollars on board. Is that clear?"

"Yes, very clear."

"You have three days to comply with my demands."

"That's not a lot of time."

"It's plenty of time, especially since you already have the FBI and probably the Army there with you. I'm not stupid."

"Mr. Cali, this is Special Agent Whitfield with the FBI. Like the sheriff said, three days isn't a lot of time to set this kind of thing up."

"You will do as I demand, or I will start killing hostages."

"There is no need for violence. We would like to end this peacefully."

"As would I. As a show of good faith, I will release the teachers in one hour. I do hope this is satisfactory."

"Yes, of course."

"You should also know that I have the school wired with explosives. If anyone tampers with them, they will go off. I have the only control mechanism on me at all times."

Cali hung up the phone, leaving everyone in the sheriff station in silence. For the first time since arriving, Jeff spoke up. "So, now what do we do?"

The General was the first to speak.

"I have sent a squad of men to set up a command center about a mile from the school. We will base all operations there. You, Mr. Morgan, are to stay out of the way. The last thing we need is for you to get in to trouble."

"Excuse me general, but I know that school and those boys like the back of my hand. I think I could be of help."

"Maybe you're right," said Agent Whitfield. "He could give us some good intel."

"Very well. Let's head out. Morgan, just stay out of the way till we need you."

"Yes, sir." After the general turned away, Jeff gave him a mock salute, much like the one Jared had given him that morning.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~BH&RS~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"I really hope that this isn't all we get to do while they are here. I'm gonna go crazy if I have to stay locked up in this room with all you guys," Chris said.

"What, you don't like our company or somethin'?"

"No, it's just that if we aren't allowed to take showers anytime soon, it's gonna get awfully rank in here."

"Oh…yeah."

"So, now what?" Gabe asked matter-of-factly.

"Well, we need to figure out what they are planning. Then one of us needs to try to get out of here and get all the information to the people who can help us."

"And how are we supposed to do that, Jared?"

"Piece of cake, guys! All we have to do is get eyes on all of them and find out what kind of guns they're carrying, that kind of stuff."

"Yeah, Jensen, piece of cake, right," Tom said sarcastically.

"Yes, exactly. And maybe if we can get our hands on one…"

"Get our hands on a gun? Are you nuts, Jensen?" Jared looked at him. He couldn't believe what he was hearing.

"Look, the guy in the hall is all alone. We could take him. With his gun, we could get outta here."

"You are nuts! This fascination with guns must run in mafia families," Mike countered.

"What the fuck did you say?" Jensen was pissed.

"Whoa, dude! I was just joking!"

"That's not funny!"

Jensen began to advance on Mike. Jared stepped between them, facing Jensen.

"Hey, Jen, it was just a joke. He didn't mean anything by it."

"Yeah, I guess you're right." He looked around Jared at Mike. "I'm sorry I lost it. I guess we're all under a lot of stress. Just don't ever bring that up again."

"Yeah, sure Jensen."

"Okay, guys, we need to figure this out so we can start in the morning."

"I have an idea!" Chad chimed in. It was the first time he had ventured to break into the conversation.

"Um…okay…what is it?" Jared asked.

"I managed to get an up close look at that remote control on the leader's wrist. If it's like most other remotes, it should have the same chip in it as my remote for my airplane."

"Okay…so?"

"So…if we can switch the chips, then…"

"Wait, you're saying that if we switch the chips, then he'd control the plane with his wrist thing, and we'd have control of the bombs?"

"Exactly!" Chad smirked.

"And how do you expect us to do that?" Chris looked at him skeptically.

"Yeah, Chad, how do we get the chip out of his wrist thing without him knowing? I don't see it happening," Tom added.

"Well, the reverse is also true."

"What the hell do you mean, the reverse is also true?" Jensen asked.

"You can take the chip out of the plane and replace it with the chip in the detonator."

"Oh, okay, so all we have to do is get into the Headmaster's office, the place the leader hardly ever leaves, and switch the chips."

"Yes! It's brilliant! We already know how to get in there; we just have to wait until he's out of the room." Jared was getting excited.

"Jared, how are we gonna do that?"

"I'm still working on that. First, though, we have to get as much info to the good guys outside. Here's what we have to do."

They huddled together around the bed and worked out the game plan. They would each take shifts taking food to the numerous gunmen around the school. Jensen would carry his notebook around with him and sketch everything he could; floor plans, terrorist locations and faces, weapons, and anything else that it seemed would help.

Gabriel, or Gabe as they all called him now, was also into electronics and languages. He knew some Spanish and was able to help them identify some of the names of the gunmen, and some of what they were saying. He was able to tell them the names of five of the terrorists: Julio, Ruiz, Carlos, Jorge, and the leader, Luis Cali.

Over the course of the next day, Jensen had a whole notebook full of sketches. He was able to sketch the faces of six of the gunmen, including Luis and the American member of the crew, Jack. He had also drawn pictures of the buildings, the location of the dorm room they were in, the layout of the entire school, and the numerous weapons that the men had at their disposal.

They were all staying in Chad and Gabe's room now, so Chad grabbed his yearbook from the previous year. It was one with the picture of the school inside the front cover. They drew circles around each place that the gunmen were stationed, and how many were at each place. They tore Jensen's sketches out of the notebook and placed them inside the front cover. Jared placed it on the table next to one of the beds.

"Okay, tomorrow I make a break for it."

"Just be careful…and don't get us killed." Jensen slapped him on the shoulder, and then walked over to his makeshift bed.

Jared looked over in Jensen's direction. I'd never do anything to hurt you, he thought.

It wasn't long before everyone was asleep.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~BH&RS~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The plan was fairly simple: to get the information they collected to the authorities. All Jared had to do was get to the storm drain, find help, hand over the info, and get back to the school without getting caught.

"This is crazy! You've only got less than hour to get there and back!"

"I know, Jen, but I have to do this. We had this all worked out last night. What's wrong with the plan now, all of a sudden?"

"Nothin', I'm just worried is all."

"Don't worry. Everything will be fine."

Jensen grabbed the yearbook and the pictures he had drawn and handed them to Jared. He pulled up his shirt in back and stuck it in the waistband of his jeans. He pulled the shirt back down to hide the book. He then looked over at Chad and Gabe. Chad held the model airplane. Chris, Mike, and Tom stood around, blocking any view the gunmen may have.

"Hey Chad, you sure this is going to work?" Mike was a little skeptical.

"Of course, man. No worries." Chad had a goofy grin on his face.

Jared turned to Tom. "You ready?"

"As I'll ever be." Tom held onto the football he was about to heave at one of the first floor windows of the main building.

"Okay…let's run through this again. Tom will…."

"Dude, we've run through this enough. I'm ready to go. We only have an hour before head count. If I don't leave now, I won't have any leeway in case something goes wrong. Don't worry, Jen, everything will be fine!"

"Yeah …just be careful."

"I will." Jared leaned in and placed a kiss on Jensen's forehead.

Tom and Chris walked a little further out into the quad. Chris ran out about twenty feet, as if he was going to catch the ball Tom was about to throw. Jared, Jensen, and Mike walked toward the side of the building. There were a set of steps there and a locked door.

Tom threw the ball. He purposefully missed Chris' open hands, and the ball hit and shattered one of the windows in the front of the building. At the same moment, Jared, using a towel he had wrapped around his arm, broke one of the windows in the locked door. He then reached in, unlocked the door, and entered the building. Jensen and Mike stood together, blocking the view of the door. Once Jared had reclosed the door, they both walked back to the corner of the building. They were joined by Chad, Gabe, and Chris. Tom was still over where he had broken the window. They each looked at their watches. Time was ticking. Jared now had fifty minutes before their next head count.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~BH&RS~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jared headed down the hallway and into one of the classrooms. They picked this one because it had one of the few windows that opened wide enough for Jared to fit through. He went through and dropped down onto the ground as quietly as possible. He shut the window with the towel stuck in it so that he'd be able to open it up when he got back. There was a bush that was about 10 feet out from the building. It was big enough to hide his large frame and gave him a good vantage point of the roof. He ducked down then ran to the bush. He turned around and looked toward the roof. The two men were pacing the roof. He waited until they were facing the other way then made a run for the tree line. He didn't stop running until he got the storm drain. He stopped to catch his breath, and looked at his watch. He still had forty-five minutes till head count. He looked back in the direction he had come. Seeing nothing, he turned to the grate over the drain. He pulled it open. There was about four inches of water in the bottom of the pipe, so he had to be careful not to step or fall into it as he made his way through the pipe. Once on the other side, he pulled the yearbook from his waistband and began to walk in the direction of the camp. He didn't make it far. Two armed soldiers came out of the trees and held guns on him.

"Whoa!"

"Son, you're coming with us."

"No, I have to get back! I just had to get these to you." He tried to hand the yearbook and sketches to one of the men.

"You can give that to the General when we get you back to camp."

"You don't understand. If I'm not back in thirty-five minutes, they're going to kill four hostages!"

"If you go back, they'll kill you."

They led Jared back to the camp.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~BH&RS~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The encampment was located just off the main highway headed back into town. It was about a mile out from the campus, but there were soldiers stationed all along the fence line. When Jared arrived there, one of the first people he saw was Dean Morgan. Jared ran up to Morgan. He handed him the yearbook and sketches.

"This is all the info y'all need. It's the locations and names of all the gunmen, and some sketches of ones that we were able to see. I have to get back. I only have twenty minutes till they start the headcount. I can do it if I leave now!"

Before Morgan was able to say anything, the General exited the large tent.

"You aren't going anywhere. We have to get you back to town."

"No! I have to go back now! They'll kill five people if the head count is off!"

"They'll most likely kill you if you go back."

"I have to go back, now!"

Morgan put his hands on Jared's shoulders to try and calm him. He whispered so no one else could hear what he had to say.

"Go, I'll take care of the rest. Just wait for a signal."

"Signal?"

"Do you trust me?"

"Yes, sir."

"Then go."

Jared took off running. The minutes were ticking away, and he was getting more and more worried that he wouldn't make it back in time.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~BH&RS~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jensen was getting extremely worried. Each of the guys kept looking down at their watches. There was less than fifteen minutes left before they would all be herded back into the cafeteria and the head count would begin.

Chris motioned to Chad. It was time for the third part of the plan. Chad sat his model airplane on the ground. He flipped the power on and then stepped back. Using the remote controller in his hand, he powered it up and then it lifted off. Chad guided it through the air all around the quad. The whole idea was to distract the gunmen long enough for Jared to sneak back into the group.

Chad guided the plane toward the nearest terrorist. He judged wrong and nearly ran the plane right into him. The man saw it coming and was able to knock it out of the air. The plane came crashing to the ground with a loud thud. He walked over and picked it up. He turned toward Chad and walked in his direction. When he got to him he yanked the controller out of his hand. He then walked toward the building. It was at that moment that Jack exited and motioned for the students to make their way to the cafeteria. There was still no sign of Jared.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~BH&RS~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jared made it back to the storm drain. He was in much more of a hurry this time, and he slipped. He fell down face first into the water in the bottom of the pipe. He was now soaked from head to toe. He didn't have time to worry about it. So, he got up and ran as fast as he could back to the edge of the tree line.

He paused as he got to the last tree. He looked at his watch. He had two minutes to the head count. There was no way he would make it back in time. He looked up at the roof. The two gunmen were facing in his direction, so he couldn't move. He was stuck there for nearly five minutes. As soon as they turned, he made a run for it. He slid to the window, opened it up, and pulled himself inside.

He was soaking wet, and he tried to figure out what to do. He looked down at the towel in his hand and a plan came together. As he made his way toward the hallway, he stripped out of all his clothes. He then wrapped the towel around his waist and ran toward the cafeteria.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~BH&RS~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Eighty-seven, eighty-eight, eighty-nine…" Cali looked angry. He had warned the kids that if the number was off that he would kill five of them. He decided to count again. He really didn't want to kill any of them, but he wouldn't have a choice.

He finished the count once more and still came up with only eighty-nine.

"I told you what would happen!" He walked in front of the students. He randomly selected four boys and told them to stand against the wall.

As two of the gunmen lined up and pointed their guns at the boys, footsteps could be heard out in the hallway. The door slammed open and naked, towel-covered Jared came running through the door.

"I'm sorry, please, I didn't mean it! I was in the shower and didn't hear anything…" Jared rambled. He was scared to death. Maybe the General was right and they'd kill him.

Cali grabbed him by the arm. He then looked at the other gunmen. "Take the rest of the students back to their rooms. I'll deal with this myself."

Before he was led from the room, Jared glimpsed over at Jensen. Jensen appeared angry, but Jared could tell that there was also some relief in his eyes.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~BH&RS~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jared was led into the Headmaster's office, which Cali had taken as his own. He looked around as he entered the room. He noticed Chad's model airplane sitting against the wall. The controller was sitting on the desk next the bomb detonator. He was led over to the desk and pushed forcefully into it. Cali then walked around the desk and opened up a drawer. He pulled out Morgan's collapsible pointer and extended it to its full length.

"I read your file. You really have no sense of discipline, do you?"

"I guess not."

"This will teach you how serious I am."

He slammed Jared down onto the desk and began to whip him across the back with the thin metal pointer. Each hit caused a thin red whelp to form on his back. Several of them began to bleed. Each time, Jared winced and bit his tongue. He wasn't going to give Cali the satisfaction of hearing him scream. After ten hits, he stopped. He gave Jared a moment to collect himself, and then called Jack into the room.

"Take him back to his room."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~BH&RS~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

There was a knock on the door of room 305. Mike, being closest to the door, got up and answered it. When he opened it, Jared stood there, still dressed in only a towel. Jack was standing right behind him. He shoved Jared through the doorway, and if Mike hadn't have been standing there he would have fallen to the floor. Mike closed the door behind Jared, and when he turned around, he got a good look at Jared's back.

"Oh shit, man! What did he do?"

"What do you mean? Jared, what happened?" Jensen stood up and walked toward where Jared stood.

"It's nothin'. I'm fine…" He began to collapse. Luckily, Jensen was close enough to catch him before he hit the floor.

"Mike, help me out here."

That's when Jensen got his first look at Jared's back. There were several angry whelps across his back, and about half of them were seeping blood.

"Clear off the bed!" Jensen practically yelled at the rest of the guys. He and Mike laid him gently on his stomach on the bed. "Somebody, get a towel and some water. Anybody have any bandages?"

Tom grabbed a towel from a drawer and ran to the sink. He filled up a bowl with water and then brought them to Jensen. He was shaking, and dropped the towel.

"I've got it. Just sit with him." Mike grabbed the towel and water and began cleaning Jared's wounds.

When Mike first touched his back, Jared's eyes opened and he moaned loudly.

"Jared, talk to me. What happened?"

"He…he wanted to teach me a lesson." He squeezed his eyes shut. He was in considerable pain.

"That bastard is not going to get away with this!" Jensen was livid.

"Whoa, cowboy!" Chris stood and put a hand on Jensen's shoulder. "There's nothing we can do."

"I know! I'm just pissed off!" He ran a hand through Jared's hair. "I just wish there was something I could do. I hate sitting here doing nothing."

Tom chose that moment to chime in. "After what Jared did today, we may not have to wait too much longer for something to happen."

"I…I got the stuff…to them…The reason I was late getting back…is they wouldn't let me leave…I had to make a run for it."

"Did they say anything about the plan?" Chad had been quiet up till that point. He still felt like an outsider in the group.

"Morgan said to wait for a signal…ran before I had to time to find out anything else…wanted to make it back on time…still didn't…" Jared winced again. Luckily, Mike was almost done with his ministrations.

"Don't worry about it right now, Jared. Just rest. We'll figure things out later."

Jared fell asleep as soon as Mike was done. Jensen covered him with the sheet and then crawled into the bed next to him. It wasn't long before everyone had found their own makeshift beds and had fallen asleep. Jensen was beyond upset. He'd never felt this strongly about another person before in his life. He just wanted to hurt the people that hurt Jared. He would bide his time, and wait for the perfect opportunity to get them back. He didn't know how, but he knew it had to be done.

After about an hour, Jensen fell asleep.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~BH&RS~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Throughout the course of the previous day, the families of all involved gathered at the town hall. Sheriff Beaver, Special Agent Whitfield, and Dean Morgan were all there to answer questions and fill them in on what was going on. The general consensus was that the demands should be met. Whitfield stood up to address the group.

"It is the policy of the US to not negotiate with terrorists."

This angered many in the crowd. They started yelling loudly. Morgan stepped in to try and quiet everyone.

"Please, sit down and listen. We are doing everything we can to get your sons back to you. The last thing we want is for any harm to come to them."

He sat down and waited. Whitfield leaned over to him and whispered, "You do realize who is in this room. These are some of the most rich and powerful people in the state, let alone the country."

"Yes, I'm quite aware." He looked at Whitfield and grinned.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~BH&RS~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next morning, everyone was awakened at the usual time, by the usual means. They had to be in the cafeteria by 8:00. Jared was stiff, but managed to get cleaned up and dressed without too much trouble. It was now time for the first head count of the day. Cali once again lined them up against the wall.

"One…two…three…four…"

He finished counting all of the students, and then told one of his henchmen to let them all go out into the quad.

The rest of the day went without much incident. The younger students sat with the Headmaster as he tried to teach them about history. Then lunch came, and went.

Cali stayed in the office most of the day, except for when he was conducting the head counts. He was sitting at the desk when the phone rang. He answered it, and after a few moments hung up with a smile on his face. He grabbed his walkie talkie and pressed the call button.

"Jack, bring Mr. Ackles to the office."

He walked out into the quad and up to the group, grabbed Jensen by the arm, and said, "You're coming with me."

"Like hell I am!" Jensen struggled to get away. Jared grabbed the guy by his other arm, trying to get him away from Jensen. Jack was holding a gun in the hand, and was able to shake loose by hitting Jared with it. Jared was knocked to the floor with the force of the hit, at which point, Jack pointed the gun at Jared's head. He winced from the impact of his back on the floor.

"Whoa…wait…I'll go with you! Just leave him alone." Jensen gave Jared a look that told him to stay still and let him go.

"This way." Jack led him by the arm to the office where Cali was waiting.

"Leave us!" Cali commanded, and all of his men left the room, leaving Jensen and Cali behind.

Cali stood behind the desk and looked at Jensen.

"I'm letting you go."

"Excuse me?" Jensen questioned. He couldn't believe what he was hearing.

"I said I'm letting you go, Mr. Ackles. I admire your father, and…"

"My father? Are you kidding me?"

"No, I am not kidding…he is…"

"Fuck my father! And fuck you! I'm not leaving here without my friends!"

During their exchange, a couple of his men heard the elevated voices and came into the room. They walked up behind Jensen.

"Yes you are! Jorge, Carlos, escort him to the gate. Mr. Ackles is leaving."

The each grabbed one of Jensen's arms. He struggled with all his might, but was easily overpowered by the two larger men. They made it into the hall. At that point, Jensen had stopped struggling, giving the two men a false sense of security. They each let go of his arms. This was it. This was the opportunity he was waiting for. In that moment, Jensen took both men by surprise. He grabbed Carlos' gun arm and twisted it around, causing him to drop the gun. Jensen then kicked Jorge in the knee, knocking him to the ground. While both men were disoriented, he picked the gun up off the floor and ran toward the front door of the building. He pushed the door open and pointed the gun at the first gunman he saw. He had never shot a large gun like this before, so the kickback surprised him. He was able to get two shots off, hitting the first gunman in the shoulder and missing the second. The second was able to get three good shots off before he was stopped by Cali. He hit Jensen in the right side of his stomach, the right side of his chest, and high in the left side of his chest. He went down hard.

The entire student body was standing in the quad and witnessed everything as it happened. As soon as Jensen ran out the door, Jared and the rest of the group, turned. As Jensen was shot and went down, Jared screamed, "No!" and started to run in his direction. It took Mike, Tom, and Chris to restrain him so he wouldn't get caught up in the gunfire. He struggled with all his strength to get away. Once Cali ordered his men to stand down, they let him go. He ran as fast as he could to Jensen's side. Jared fell to his knees. He realized that Jensen was still alive, and was struggling to breathe.

"Oh god, Jensen …please!" The tears were flowing freely. He vaguely heard someone yell to get some help, but he was in his own world. Right before Jared was pulled away by one of the gunmen, Jensen opened his eyes briefly. They made eye contact right before Jared was pulled out of sight. Jensen's eyes closed, and he stopped breathing.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~BH&RS~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When the call came in to the 911 office, the operator was told there had been a shooting, and there were two victims, one was close to death. Cali demanded that one ambulance be brought in, and that the Dean of the school, Jeff Morgan, be on board.

The ambulance stopped momentarily at the encampment, picked up Morgan, and headed to the front gate. Since they knew that the one victim was gravely injured, they moved as quickly as possible to get to the school.

Once the gate opened, the ambulance made its way down the drive toward the main building. It was met by two armed men. They made the two paramedics and Morgan exit the vehicle and searched them. Once they were deemed safe, Cali exited the building. He motioned for the paramedic to come inside. He then walked up to Morgan.

"I want you to make sure that his father knows this was an accident. We were letting him go."

"He's just a child. You are the adult. How the hell do you expect me to explain to his father that your men's shooting him was an accident?"

"He attacked my men! They were defending themselves!"

"Yeah, I'm sure that's exactly how it happened."

The front door opened and the paramedics were working on keeping the young man alive. One of the paramedics was doing chest compressions while the other pushed the gurney toward the ambulance. When Morgan looked, he could see that Jensen was covered in blood. What clean skin he could see was deathly pale, and he wasn't moving. He turned back to Cali.

"His father will never understand this. He'll never let you get away with it."

Morgan returned to the ambulance. As soon as he climbed in the back, they headed out. The driver hurriedly turned around and headed back out the gate, and toward the nearest hospital.

"We're losing him!" yelled the paramedic to the driver. "We need to get there, now!"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~BH&RS~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Alan Ackles had someone close to the school at all times. He wanted to keep an eye out on his son. As soon as the shooting happened, he got a phone call.

"Mr. Ackles, sir, I have some bad news."

"What is it?"

"Your son. He…he's been shot."

"What! How? What happened?"

"Apparently he attacked one of the gunmen, took his weapon, and then opened fire."

"Do you know if he's alive?"

"I'm sorry, sir, but there is no word yet. It didn't look good."

"…Thank you for your call."

Ackles hung up the phone. He hung his head. He wouldn't cry, but he would make sure that Cali and his men knew how upset he really is. Everything that he'd said to his son just days earlier flooded back. He could never hate his son, no matter the consequences. He picked up the phone and made one phone call.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~BH&RS~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

They finally had Jensen stabilized. Because of their distance from the closest hospital, the paramedic had been given permission to insert a breathing tube. He was using a squeeze bag to assist in breathing. The paramedic glanced over at Morgan. He could tell he was upset. He asked, "He's one of your students? This has got to be tough."

"More than you know."

"We're doing everything we can for him. It'll take us at least twenty minutes to get to the hospital."

"Will he make it?"

"I hope so. He's severely injured. Three bullet wounds. He's going to need surgery immediately."

"He's a strong kid."

Several alarms started going off at that moment.

"Damnit! His heart's stopped!" The paramedic began chest compressions. He glanced back at Morgan. "When I say, squeeze the bag! We need to keep his air flow going."

Jeff grabbed the bag and did as he was told.

When they arrived at the hospital, Jensen was rushed out of the back of the ambulance and into the ER. Morgan ran behind it, but was stopped short by one of the nurses.

"You can't go back there. The doctors need room to work."

"Will he be okay? Will he make it?"

"Sir, I don't know. Sorry."

"I need a phone."

After making his phone call, he went and sat down in the waiting room. He didn't realize how much a toll this was taking on him until he was able to finally relax. He must have fallen asleep because he woke to being shaken and someone calling his name.

"Mr. Morgan? Are you Mr. Jeffrey Morgan?" It was a nurse.

"Oh…um…yeah…sorry, must have fallen asleep."

"Sir, the doctor would like to speak to you."

"Thanks."

A few moments later, a young doctor, probably a few years younger than Morgan himself, walked over.

"Mr. Morgan, I'm Dr. Kripke. I wanted to speak to you about Jensen. I don't normally talk to non-family about patients, but these are special circumstances."

"Okay…what is it?"

"Okay, Jeff, here's what we are looking at. He's stable for the moment, but he's on a ventilator. He was hit three times, no exit wounds. So we're going to have to do surgery to remove them. One of the bullets hit him low on his right side. Luckily, that one didn't do any extensive damage. What I'm worried about is the two that hit higher in his chest area."

"It's bad, isn't it?"

"I'm not going to lie to you. The first one went in on the right side of his chest. It missed his heart, but it punctured his lung and is lodged near his spinal cord. The cord itself isn't damaged, but there is swelling. We had to put a chest tube in to help re-inflate his lung, so we'll have to repair that as well. The other bullet entered just above his heart and is lodged near his shoulder blade. It grazed his lung, but didn't puncture it. It did tear through some of the muscle, so there will be some extensive physical therapy if he recovers."

"If? Are you saying…?"

"There is a very good chance that he won't make it. He's lost a lot of blood, and we've already had to infuse four units since he's been here."

"Thank you for being straight with me. He's a strong kid. He'll make it."

"I hope so."

Shortly after the conversation, a tall man in a suit walked in to the waiting room. He walked over to Morgan.

"Sir, I'm Agent Carver with the FBI. I'm here to take you back to the camp."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~BH&RS~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When they arrived back at the camp and got out of the vehicle, General Lehne approached them.

"The situation just changed dramatically. Cali's father was just killed in prison."

"Does he know?"

Agent Whitfield approached. "We have cut the power and phone lines to the school, but there is still the possibility that word will get through. As far as we can tell, there hasn't been any outside communication."

"That's good right?" Morgan was getting extremely worried.

"For the moment, but as soon as he finds out, he's got nothing to lose. He'll blow the school. This means we have to move up the op. We go in tomorrow morning."

"Mr. Morgan, how much do you trust this kid or yours, Jared? Are you sure he can get this done?"

"I trust that he can get this done. If he says he can do it, he can do it."

"Okay. We'll send the signal tonight."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~BH&RS~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tom, Mike, Chris, Chad and Gabe all sat around Jared on the bed. He was doing everything he could to hold the tears back. He was holding Jensen's notebook. He had promised to never look in it. Now, that didn't seem to matter. He opened the front cover. The first page only had two words: "My Stuff." The picture on the next page caught Jared off guard. It was of him, sitting in bed, reading a book. He remembered the moment. Jensen had been sitting at the desk with the notebook, but he wouldn't let Jared see what he was doing. He was so engrossed in the book that he didn't realize Jensen had been drawing him. On the next page was something that surprised Jared even more. There were a bunch of words scrawled across the page, but what was written at the top nearly broke him. The words, "For Jared," were at the top of the page. He tried to read through the rest of the words on the page, but the tears in his eyes wouldn't hold back. He couldn't hold it in anymore. He shut the book, handed it to Chris, and stood up. He walked over to the wall next to his dresser, turned around, and slid down the wall onto the floor. He openly sobbed, and he didn't care who saw him. He sat there and cried himself to sleep.

Everyone just sat there, in disbelieving silence. Each of them eventually going to their makeshift beds and trying to sleep. Chris picked up the notebook where he had sat it down after Jared handed it to him. He opened it up to the third page, and read the words that had been written there. Jensen had written a song, or had at least started one. There were a lot of scratched out words, but the ones he had kept fit together amazingly. He couldn't believe that Jensen had written it. They had been writing songs together for awhile, but nothing like that. He quietly began to read them aloud, and composing a melody in his head.

'I used to hate my life, until I met you.

Yeah, that sounds lame, but it is oh so true.

I lived a dark existence, then you brightened my day.

I feel as though I've changed, in the best possible way.'

It was several hours later when a bright light started to shine in the window. Chris saw it first. He jumped up and grabbed the mirror from behind the door. He stood at the window and held the mirror up, essentially reflecting the light back toward the source. This was it.

Jared startled awake and saw what Chris was doing. He jumped up and grabbed the mirror.

"What the hell are you doing?"

"Um…following through with the plan that y'all came up with."

"What's the point? It's not going to work…"

"What the hell, Jared? This was your idea. We have to do this."

"If you say we have to do this for Jensen, I'll beat the shit out of you."

"You know why we have to do it, and we are doing it."

"Whatever…"

Chris picked the mirror back up and reflected the light once again. Shortly after, the light was turned off, and Chris sat the mirror down against the wall.

"It's done…the plan's a go."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~BH&RS~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next morning, they all got up and got ready to head to the cafeteria for breakfast and the first head count. Jared really didn't want to get up and face the day, but was determined to do what he could to help the authorities on the outside as much as he could. He went to the sink and looked in the mirror. His eyes were puffy and bloodshot. He splashed water on his face and with one last look, he went about getting ready.

As soon as the head count was over, everyone was sent through the food line and then they all sat down to eat. A few minutes later, Jared got up from his seat. He walked behind Chad and Gabe, signaling for them to follow him a few minutes later. Jared went into the bathroom and waited until the others got there.

"Okay…here's the deal." He stepped over to the sink and turned the water on. "Gabe, you stay here and keep the water running. If something goes wrong, turn the water off. That'll be our signal."

"Sure."

"Chad, you're with me."

"Um…okay…let's go."

Jared opened one of the stall doors and climbed up onto the toilet. He then pulled himself up onto one of the walls, reached up and opened the vent. He heaved himself up through the hole and into the vent. He backed up until he could see down through the hole, and then helped Chad up. There wasn't much room up there, so they had to crawl slowly. They also had to make sure they didn't make too much noise, as to alert anyone below.

"Dude, how do you move around in here? It's a tight fit, even for me," Chad whispered.

"Lots of practice, and I'm a lot more limber than I look."

They finally made it to the vent door above the Headmaster's office. When Jared looked down, he could see that Cali was still in there, sitting at the desk.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~BH&RS~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Back in the cafeteria, Mike, Chris, and Tom were sitting quietly eating their food. Tom then elbowed Mike in the arm.

"You ready? It's been ten minutes."

"Yeah…here goes nothin'"

Mike took in a deep breath and then began to wheeze. He started taking in more deep breaths but was having trouble exhaling. He reached for his throat. He began to fall backward, so Tom and Chris grabbed either arm and guided him down to the floor. Tom yelled out, "Someone help! He's having a bad asthma attack! Please!"

One of the gunmen in the room ran out and to the office where Cali was. He told him what was going on and he left the room headed to the cafeteria.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~BH&RS~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When Jared saw Cali leave the room and the door close behind him, he took his chance and opened the vent door. He crawled down through the hole and hung momentarily, till he was sure he wouldn't fall. He then dropped down onto the desk. He jumped to the floor, and ran over to the plane. He picked it up and carried it back to the desk, sitting it next to the control box for the bomb. He looked up at Chad.

"Okay, now what do I do?"

"Turn the plane over and open up the panel on the bottom. That's where the controls are."

"Okay."

"Now, open up the panel on the top of the control box."

Jared reached over toward the detonator.

"Whoa! Not that box. The smaller one. You touch the detonator and you'll probably blow us all up."

"Oh, damn. Okay…"

"Now, look at the two. Do you see anything that looks similar?"

"Um…yeah…the circuit boards and there are a few of the chips."

"Okay…the control box should have a blue chip, like the plane."

"Oh yeah, I see it."

"Good. Now, remove the chips and switch them."

Jared pulled the chip out of the plane, and then carefully pulled the same chip out of the control box. He quickly switched them and replaced the panels. He put the plane back where he had found it. He didn't want to leave any evidence that he had been there. He then jumped back up on the desk, jumped up and grabbed the edges of the vent, and with Chad's help, made his way back up into the vent. He pulled the vent door closed behind him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~BH&RS~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Mike continued to struggle on the floor of the cafeteria. He began to calm down, until he saw the light go off on Cali's wrist controller. This sent him back into a wheezing fit. He continued on until he noticed the light come back on. At that point, the Headmaster had returned with his inhaler. Mike grabbed it, and inhaled 2 quick squeezes of the medicine. Within a few moments he began to breathe easier. He sat up.

"Thank you, sir. I think I'm okay now." He gave the Headmaster a weary look. He then turned to Tom and gave him a smirk.

Chris had come around to his other side, and both of them helped Mike up off the floor.

"Are you sure?" The Headmaster was concerned. This wasn't the first time he had witnessed one of Mike's attacks.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm good."

Cali looked around and saw that many of the students had gotten out of their seats.

"Everyone, go back to your seats. There is nothing more to see here."

He nodded to Jack and then walked back to the office.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~BH&RS~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Gabe was still standing in the bathroom when one of the gunmen walked in. So, he quickly went to the sink and began washing his hands. He then turned off the water and walked out of the room. He went back to his seat, alerting the rest of the guys that something was up. This was Chris' signal to make his way to the bathroom. He would then wait five minutes. If no one had left by then, he would go in.

The gunman finished his business and then turned on the faucet. He was still washing his hands when the vent door opened and Chad began to climb down out of the vent. The gunman saw him and stepped back from the sink. He pointed his gun at Chad.

Chad had finished climbing down and turned around and was face-to-face with the gun. He instinctively put his hands up and froze where he was. Jared had finally made his way down and turned to see what was happening. He also put his hands up. The gunman motioned for them to step toward the door. He kept the gun pointed on them the entire time. At this point, the gunman's back was to the door.

As if on cue, Chris quietly opened the door and stepped into the room. He immediately grabbed the guy from behind. This gave Jared the chance to grab for the gun. The man was so stunned by what was happening that Jared was easily able to take it away. Unfortunately, the man recovered and lunged at Jared. Chris was able to hold him, but was losing ground quickly. The three of them struggled. Chad saw the gun lying on the floor and picked it up. Jared yelled at him to hit the man, so Chad did, right across the face, knocking him out immediately.

Chad walked out of the bathroom first, followed by Chris. A moment later, Jared walked out, the gun behind his back. He waited till he saw that none of the other terrorists were in the room. He then held the gun up and yelled, "Everybody, follow me!"

He then made his way to the kitchen door and held it open as the students began to pile through.

Mike, Tom, and Chris led the rest of the students down into the hidden basement. Chad and Gabe had gone ahead to prepare the room. Jared waited till they had all gone through the passage and Chris signaled him that everything was good to go. He then closed the trapdoor. He then covered it with random stuff in the room. He headed back into the cafeteria, and finally reached the door that led back to the main part of the building. He still had the gun in his hand that he'd grabbed off the terrorist they'd knocked out. Now, all he had to do was hide until the cavalry arrived. Unfortunately, he wasn't paying as good attention as he should and Cali was able to take him by surprise. As Jared came through the door, he caught him across the face with his arm, knocking him back a bit and leaving him in a daze.

Cali grabbed Jared's left arm, and snatched the gun from his right. He began to lead Jared toward the office, when he heard the sound of a window breaking. Cali then heard gunshots, and saw one of his men fall. He reacted quickly, grabbing and placing Jared between him and the new threat. He also put his gun to Jared's right temple.

Jared tried to stay as calm as he could, but that was nearly impossible considering the situation. He was forced past the armed soldiers and toward the office. He was still dazed and his head hurt.

Cali was losing it. He had been outsmarted by a kid, and now everything had gone to hell. He had one chance left. If he could get to the office, he could set off the bombs. If he was going down, he was going to take as many people with him as he could. With the gun pointed at the kid's head, he knew that they wouldn't try and take a shot at him.

Cali, with Jared, finally made it to the office. He backed through the doorway and closed the door once they were through. He knew the door would be easily opened, so he held Jared between him and the door. He backed up toward the desk. He then reached around Jared and pulled the plastic cover off. He pressed the button, but instead of the bombs going off, the propeller on Chad's model plane came on. When Cali saw this, he let out this inhuman growl. He put the gun back up to Jared's head and then reached for the wires coming from the detonator on the bomb.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~BH&RS~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Using the map that Morgan had supplied and the intel he had given them on the storm drain, two squads of soldiers headed toward the school. They would go through the storm drain and follow the tree line up to the buildings. If all went according to plan, the students would be safe in the basement and they could enter the building unnoticed.

Morgan had followed the soldiers onto the campus and was making his way around to the side of the building where the Headmaster's office was located. The soldiers had all entered the building at the front, but not without catching him following them.

"What the hell are you doing here? You're gonna get yourself killed."

"You can't expect me to sit by while y'all go storming in there. I have to make sure the boys are okay."

"Look, it's going to get hairy in just a few minutes. Just stay out of the building and out of our way. Here you may need this." The lead soldier gave him his sidearm.

He headed around to the side of the building where the headmaster's office was. He happened to look through the window of the office and he saw Cali holding Jared in front of him. He also noticed that he was reaching for the wires on the bomb. He knew that if Cali pulled the wires, all the bombs would explode. He could think of only one thing. He aimed the gun at the window, fired a couple of shots, and then jumped through.

At almost the same moment, the soldiers broke down the door.

Jared was standing as still has he possibly could. He didn't know what do, and there really wasn't much he could do. When he heard the shots coming from the window, he turned his head in that direction. He didn't expect the door to blow and to all of a sudden be pushed toward it.

Cali was able to get two shots off before he was taken down by two shots, one from his right side and one from the front. The kill shot was the one to his head.

Everything happened so fast. Morgan had busted through the window, recovered and shot at Cali just as he had shoved Jared out of the way. The soldiers broke through and one well placed shot brought him down. Morgan heard the two extra shots, but had no idea where they had gone. The only thing on his mind at the moment was Jared. He stood up and rushed to Jared who was laying face down on the floor between where Cali had fallen and the door.

Jared was trying to get up. He felt really weak, but he wasn't sure why. Everything sounded muted, but he could hear one thing clearly, Morgan's voice.

"Jared, can you hear me? Don't move!" Morgan sounded agitated.

"Dean Morgan? What are you doing here?"

"Saving your life apparently. Stay still, okay?"

"What? Why?" Jared was feeling and sounding more and more confused.

"You've been shot! Just lay still and don't move!"

"Oh…" was that last thing he said before his entire world went dark.

Part Three

The first thing Jared heard was jumbled sounds, which soon made way to soft voices. One of them sounded like Dean Morgan. He also became hyper aware of the fact he was lying on his left side, and he was in a lot of pain. He tried to move, but the pain magnified several times. He let out a moan. At the moment, that was all he could manage.

Morgan had been sitting in Jared's room when Dr. Kripke walked in. They were standing near the door when they heard Jared moan. They both hurried to the left side of Jared's bed.

"Jared, can you open your eyes?" Dr. Kripke urged.

Slowly, his eyes began to open. It took him a few blinks before he was able to focus. The first thing he saw was the doctor's face, and then Morgan's.

"Easy…don't try to move. Do you remember why you're here?"

Softly, Jared spoke, "Um…I think I was shot…"

"Yes, you were shot. In the back of your right shoulder. That's why we have you laying on your side."

"It hurts, a lot." He winced when he shifted a little.

"I'll get you something for that." He pulled out a vial and syringe and injected something into Jared's IV. "I've got to go check on another patient." He looked over at Morgan. "I need to talk to you for a sec."

"Sure."

They walked out into the hall, closing the door behind them.

"How is he, doc?"

"Jared will be fine. He'll need some physical therapy to get back to his full mobility, but I don't see any complications."

"I want to go ahead and tell him about…"

"Wait…let's hold off, at least until he's up and walking again. The last thing I need is for him to cause anymore damage. You know he'll want to see for himself."

"Yeah, you're right. Any idea how long it will be?"

"At least a week. He needs to stay immobilized to let the shoulder heal."

"Okay."

A nurse walked up to the two men. She faced Dr. Kripke. "His blood pressure dropped again."

"Damn, I thought we had that under control. Jeff, I need to go look into this. Try and figure out what's going on."

"I'm coming with you."

"Fine, just don't get in the way."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~BH&RS~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next time Jared opened his eyes, it was dark. He assumed that it was night time. He moved a little, and realized that he wasn't in as much pain as before. In fact, he was able to move pretty easily considering. He decided to see if he could roll over onto his back. Surprisingly, he could with little discomfort. He was able to see his whole room.

A nurse walked by and just happened to look into his room and see him moving. She rushed off, and moments later she returned with Dr. Kripke closely behind.

"Nice to see you awake," he said with a smile on his face.

Jared tried to speak, but it came out in a horse whisper. "How long was I out?"

"A little over two days. You actually had us a little worried."

"Really? Is everything ok?"

"Oh yeah, no worries. You popped your stitches and started bleeding again. We got it under control though, and as you can see, things are progressing just fine."

"Okay…I guess."

"There's someone here who's been pretty worried about you."

"Who?"

"Who do ya think? We've only hung out together for the past year and a half."

Chris walked into the room with a huge grin on his face. Before he could say anything else, the doctor pulled him aside. "He seems to be doing fine. If you want to go ahead and tell him, that's fine with me. Just let me know if there are any problems."

"Sure thing," Chris said with a smile.

The doctor walked out of the room and left the two friends alone.

Jared cleared his throat, hoping that would help with his voice.

"How long have you been here?" Jared asked him, his voice a little stronger now.

"A few hours. Dean Morgan brought me up here. He could tell I was worried sick, and after all that happened…" He got a little choked up.

"Dude, are you crying?"

"Hell no! Just got something in my eye!"

"Yeah, sure." Jared grinned.

"Do you know how long you've been here, Jay?"

"I'm not really sure. They haven't told me much."

"Well, it's been five days."

"What? Really?" Jared jerked at that, and realized he wasn't as healed as he thought. His back started hurting with the effort.

"Yeah, and there are a few other things you need to know."

"Um…okay…"

"Just don't freak out, okay?"

"Depends on what it is. No guarantees."

Chris took a deep breath and let it out slowly. 'Here goes nothing',' he thought to himself.

"First thing, Dean Morgan has been trying to get a hold of your parents. No luck so far."

"That's not a surprise. I really hadn't expected to see them anyway. I'm not important."

"Don't say that. Of course you're important. They just don't know you, is all."

"Yeah, whatever…" Jared looked away from his friend. "You said that was the first thing, what else is there?"

"Well, I'm not sure the best way to do this so I'll just come right out and say it."

"Dude, what's the deal? Just say it already."

"Okay. Jensen didn't die when he got shot. They were able to get him here in time. He's down the hall in ICU."

"What?" Jared went to sit up and a gut wrenching pain went through his body. He kept trying to sit up though, and then fell back in a heap. He was sweating profusely.

"Damnit, Jay! I said not to freak out! Now look what you've done. You're bleeding again."

"I can't believe it! He's still alive. I thought for sure he was dead." Tears crept into the corners of his eyes. "Oh God! Is he okay?"

"I'm sorry, but it doesn't look good. He's been on a ventilator since they brought him in. His blood pressure keeps dropping, and they don't know why. It's almost like he's giving up."

"No! He can't die! I have to see him!" He tried to sit up again. This time, though, he just couldn't and he let out a scream of pain. He fell back in a heap, and the tears came steadily.

Chris leaned forward and pressed the button that raised the head of the bed. When he had Jared in a semi-seated position, he stopped. He then leaned forward and put his arms around Jared's shoulders. Jared laid his head on Chris' shoulder and cried. He eventually cried himself to sleep. When Chris was sure that he was asleep, he called the doctor in. They ended up having to re-stitch his shoulder once again. Luckily, it wasn't bad. Jared had just fallen asleep. Dr. Kripke assured him that he would wake up in a few hours.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~BH&RS~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Over the next few days, Jared began to wake and sleep regularly, and was able to move around much more. He had several other visitors, including Mike, Tom, Chad, and Gabe.

Once he was able to sit up on his own, the doctor decided that it would be okay for him to visit Jensen.

"I want to warn you, though. He's hooked up to a lot of machines, and there are a lot of wires and tubes going to and from his body. He's also on a ventilator that is breathing for him. It may be a little scary for you at first."

"I'll be okay…I think."

A nurse walked into the room with a wheelchair and a sling.

"Doc, do I have to?"

"Yes, Jared. You still aren't strong enough to make it that far. Trust me. You'll thank me later."

"Okay."

The nurse walked over and helped Jared into the sling that would keep his arm immobilized for the move. When that was done, Jared slowly stood up from the bed and then turned around and sat in the wheelchair. He wouldn't admit it out loud, but he was glad to have the wheelchair there.

The nurse wheeled him slowly down the hallway toward the ICU. Jared was getting anxious. He had believed for at least two weeks that his best friend and lover had died horribly, only to find out that he had indeed survived. He had pushed himself for the last few days so that he could go see Jensen. It was all he could think about.

As they reached the door to Jensen's room, the nurse stopped and knelt down in front of Jared.

"It'll be okay."

She opened the door and then pushed Jared inside. It was just as scary, if not more so, than the doctor had warned him. The nurse slowly rolled him to the bed. Jensen was surrounded by machines that were making numerous beeps and whooshing sounds. There were so many wires and tubes that Jared could barely see him. When Jared saw the ventilator tubes coming from Jensen's mouth, he just about lost all composure.

"I'll leave you two alone," the nurse said and then left the room, closing the door behind her.

Jared just sat there, stunned. He was trying hard to hold it together, but the inevitable happened and he began to cry in earnest.

After a long few minutes, he was finally able to pull himself together and he slowly stood up. He used the railing of the bed to hold himself up and he leaned over brushing a kiss to Jensen's forehead. He stood there looking down at Jensen for what seemed forever, and then sat down. His slinged arm was beginning to ache, so he tried to get comfortable in the chair. He wasn't leaving anytime soon.

He reached his good arm up through the railing and found Jensen's right hand. He gently grabbed hold of it. He was afraid that if he let go, he might lose him.

"Jensen…I'm here…and I'm not going anywhere. So, don't you dare leave me, okay?"

He sat there staring at Jensen's slack face, hoping that he'd get a reply. When none came, he sat back in the wheelchair, his hand still gently wrapped around Jensen's.

After about half an hour, the nurse came back in the room. Jared reluctantly went with her back to his room. Before they left though, Jared had one more thing to say. "I'll be back."

"When will I get to come back?"

"Well, you start physical therapy tomorrow. If all goes well, we'll let you come back when you're done there."

"Okay," Jared said, a hint of a smile on his face.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~BH&RS~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jared's first therapy session had gone pretty well. Since it was his first one, Misha, his therapist, went light on him.

"We're almost done, Jared. You're doing great."

"I've hardly done anything, and it hurts like hell."

"It's supposed to hurt like hell. That's how we know its working."

"Whatever you say, Misha," Jared said. "And what kind of name is Misha for a guy anyway?"

"I think it's Russian or something. My mom's crazy like that."

Jared was exhausted when it was over. As the nurse was wheeling him back to his room, he turned his head toward her.

"Can I go see him now?"

"Honey, aren't you tired? Don't you want to lie down first?"

"No, I don't. I want to go see him, please," he pleaded.

"Okay, we'll go see him. The doctor said it would be fine. Visiting hours are just starting."

They bypassed his room and headed straight into the ICU. She again wheeled him into the room and up to the bed then left.

Jared was too tired to try and stand up, so he just reached out and found Jensen's hand again.

"It's me again. Told you I'd be back." He gave a little smile and then sat back and stared at Jensen's unconscious form.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~BH&RS~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jared must have dozed off because the next thing he realized, he was being pushed out of the way. He heard the distinct sound of alarms and loud beeps going off all around him. It didn't take him long to realize that something was definitely wrong.

"What's wrong? Please tell me what's going on!" Jared yelled over the commotion.

"Nurse, take him back to his room, please."

"Wait! No, I'm not leaving! Tell me what the hell is going on!"

"Go back to your room and I'll be down to talk to you as soon as I can."

Jared didn't have a choice but to obey. He didn't have the strength to fight and he could barely see straight. The nurse led him back down to his room. Before they got there, they ran into Dean Morgan.

"You look exhausted, Jared. They told me you started your physical therapy today."

"Yeah…"

Morgan could tell that something was wrong.

"What's wrong, Jared?"

"Something's wrong with Jensen. All the machines…oh God…he could be dying…"

"Nurse, what's going on?"

She leaned and whispered into his ear. "Let me get him settled and then I'll come out and talk to you."

She wheeled Jared into the room and helped him back into bed. No matter how hard he tried to fight it, he could stay awake, and fell into a restless slumber. She then walked out the door, closing it behind her.

"Mr. Morgan, it appears that Jensen has started showing his first signs of coming out of the coma."

"That's great. I see a 'but' coming though."

"Well, yes, his heart rate jumped up dramatically, almost like he was struggling. With his diminished lung function and weakness, his body couldn't handle the sudden onslaught. He crashed."

"Please tell me that he's gonna be okay."

"I can't. We won't know anything else until the doctor is done with him."

It wasn't a moment after she had finished telling him what had happened that Dr. Kripke was walking toward them.

"Doc, is he…okay?" Morgan hesitated.

"He's stable. From the looks of things, it appears that Jensen has started to wake from the coma. If it weren't for his current weakened state, and the condition of his lungs, he probably would have been fine."

Morgan breathed a big sigh of relief. "How is he now?"

"Well, we only had to shock him once, which is good. When we got him back into sinus rhythm, he started to trip the ventilator. We had to induce a coma-like state so that we could leave the ventilator in. His lungs are still too weak to handle breathing on his own. From all indications, he seems to be making a miraculous recovery."

"You said you had to induce a coma?"

"Yes, we didn't have a choice. Like I said, his lungs can't handle it. So, until they are stronger, he will have to remain in the coma."

"What do you think caused this to happen?"

"Well, up until we let Jared in there yesterday, he had been showing signs of decline. We weren't expecting him to make it the rest of the week. I think he knew that Jared was there."

"Wow." Morgan didn't know what to say.

"If you wait out here for a few moments, I'll go check in on my other patient."

"Thanks for everything, doc."

Dr. Kripke walked into Jared's room. As he had already suspected, Jared had fallen asleep, unable to resist the urge. As he walked toward the bed, Jared must have heard him because he startled awake.

"Doctor, is he okay? What happened?"

"He's as good as can be expected."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"Jared, I'm really not supposed to be talking to non-family about his condition. I had to get special permission to tell Mr. Morgan."

"Please, doc. I need to know. I'm the closest thing he has to family right now."

"I could get into a lot of trouble for telling you anything, but there's nothing wrong with Mr. Morgan here telling you. I'll leave y'all to it then."

After the doctor left, Jared looked at Morgan with pleading eyes. "Please, tell me what's going on."

"Well, it appears that he began to have signs of waking. Unfortunately, his body wasn't ready for the suddenness of it. He went into arrest."

"What?"

"Calm down, Jared, before you do anymore harm to yourself."

"Calm down? You tell me Jensen nearly died again, and you want me to calm down?"

"Yes, let me finish. He seems to be okay now. They got him back."

Jared visibly relaxed at that.

"The doc also said that he was, how did he put it, tripping the vent."

"Tripping the vent?"

"He started trying to breathe on his own."

"That's good! Is he okay now? Can I see him?"

"Whoa there! I'm not done."

"Okay…" Jared was excited, but getting very frustrated.

"His lungs still aren't strong enough to handle the strain, so they had to put him on some medicine to induce a coma. Just until they've strengthened enough."

"Induce a coma?"

"Yeah, they're hoping that it'll only be for a few days. He was already showing signs of improvement before it happened."

Jared relaxed a little. "Did he say when I can see him again?"

"No, they didn't tell me that, but I'll ask as soon as I get the chance."

"Okay…"

"Well, I really need to head back to the school. They've just about finished with the clean up and we should be able to start classes back soon."

"Wait…please don't go…"

"What is it Jared?"

"I'm…scared…" Jared looked up at Morgan with tears in his eyes. That was when he just let go and the tears began streaming down his face.

Morgan sat on the edge of the bed and put his arms around Jared. He heaved and cried until he couldn't cry anymore. When the sobbing had stopped, Morgan slowly leaned Jared back against the pillow, where he slept.

Morgan had never seen the kid like this. He was frightened and broken. Jared had always been tough and this definitely worried him.

He moved to the chair and sat there for what seemed forever. When Jared began to rouse again, he stood up and moved to sit back on the bed.

Jared slowly opened his eyes. "You're still here…"

"Yeah…I guess I am."

"Do me a favor. Don't tell anyone that I just totally cried all over you. It would completely ruin my reputation."

Morgan laughed. "Sure, kid."

Jared smiled. It felt good.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~BH&RS~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A week later, Jared was out of the sling and was also able to walk around without much problem. He still felt weak, but not nearly to the point he had been. His physical therapy was going well, and the doctor was confident that he would be release within the next few days.

Every day, as soon as visiting hours started, Jared had gone to see Jensen. On this particular day, though, Jensen had another visitor.

"Hi. You must be Jared."

"Um…yes…I'm Jared."

"I'm sorry, I'm Donna Ackles, Jensen's mother."

"Oh wow. Hi! It's nice to meet you. Jensen talked a lot about you."

"I'm sure he did. We were always close. It was hard though. You know who his father is."

"Yeah, I do." There was a tinge of anger behind his words.

"He's a difficult man, but he loves his son."

"I'm sure he does. Especially after the last conversation they had," Jared said angrily.

"Please, Jared, you have every right to be angry, but now is not the time."

"Yeah, okay…"

Jared stepped back and over to the chair on the opposite side of the bed from Mrs. Ackles. Shortly after, Dr. Kripke walked into the room. He startled Jared, who had his back to the door.

"Hi, Jared, how's my other favorite patient doing?"

"Same as always."

"I've got some good news. I don't think it'll be a problem, since Mrs. Ackles is here, if I just go ahead and tell you. His lungs have healed enough that we believe we can begin to reduce his meds and bring him out of the induced coma."

"Really?"

"Yes, really."

"That's great news," Mrs. Ackles said.

"So, what does that mean? What do you have to do?"

"Well, basically, we have to wean him off the meds. So we reduce the dosages a little at a time until he's off them completely. That way, there aren't any unwarranted side effects."

"Cool!"

Jared stood up and leaned over Jensen. He whispered into his ear. "Ya hear that? They're bringing ya out. I can't wait to see those beautiful green eyes again."

He stepped back. He really hoped the doctor and Jensen's mother hadn't heard what he just said.

Jared looked at his watch. It was time for his therapy session. He turned back around to Jensen and said, "I'll be back later. It's time for Misha to torture me some more."

He turned to look at the doctor, who gave him a grin.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~BH&RS~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Two days later, Morgan arrived to pick up Jared. He was already waiting for him when he arrived.

"You ready?"

"As I'll ever be."

"How are you feeling?"

"Okay, I guess. My back doesn't hurt anymore, but my shoulder's still a little sore."

"That's to be expected."

"Yeah…"

Morgan grabbed Jared's things and walked with him out into the hall. As they walked along, Jared turned to Morgan. "I want to stop by Jensen's room one more time before we go."

"Sure, no problem."

They walked into the ICU and toward Jensen's room. When they walked in, the doctor was there, along with two nurses. Mrs. Ackles was standing near the door. There was a lot of activity going on.

"What's going on?" Jared was terrified something had gone wrong.

"Everything's fine, Jared. We've successfully weaned him off the medications and it appears that he has started to trip the vent again."

"Really? That's good, right?"

"Of course. That means he's trying to breathe on his own."

Jared rushed up to the bed and looked down at Jensen. He could hear the machine tripping every so often. He grabbed Jensen's hand and squeezed. Mrs. Ackles had moved to the other side of the bed and was holding his other hand.

"That's it. You can do it." There were tears pooling in his eyes.

"Jared, we can't remove the vent yet, but if he continues to trip it, it won't be long."

He looked the doctor in the eyes and said, "Awesome!"

Everyone in the room smiled and laughed.

"Dean Morgan, can I stay for awhile, if that's okay with the doctor?"

Morgan turned to the doctor.

"He can stay for an hour, but that's all I can allow right now."

"Sure, Jared. I've got some things to do around town before we head back to Garden Ridge anyway. I'll be back in an hour."

"He'll be fine with me, Mr. Morgan," Mrs. Ackles chimed in.

"Thanks." Jared grinned.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~BH&RS~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jensen had indeed continued to trip the vent, and so the doctor had decided that it would be okay to remove the ventilator tubing. Because Jensen was still unconscious, it would be easier to do. Once the tubing was out of the way, it was clear that Jensen was definitely breathing on his own.

"That's a great sign. Now, it's just a waiting game."

"What do you mean?" Jared and Mrs. Ackles both looked concerned.

"He's not going to wake up right away, and even after he opens his eyes, he may not be himself. Things like this take time. We also don't know if there will be any brain damage."

"Brain damage?" Jared was truly scared at those words.

Mrs. Ackles sat down quickly in the chair. Both Jared and Dr. Kripke went to her side. He looked to both of them and spoke.

"There is always the chance of brain damage in cases like these. Any time there is a lack of oxygen to the brain, it can happen. There is also the possibility that there won't be any. We just have to be prepared for everything. We also don't know if there will be any paralysis."

All the information the doctor was giving him was scaring Jared to death. It was all too much. He couldn't speak. He just stood there and stared at Jensen.

"The swelling has gone down, and everything is healing as it should be. We've run every test in the book, and there doesn't seem to be any reason that Jensen won't wake up and make a full recovery. We just have to wait and see."

That seemed to calm Jared's nerves down subtly.

"I'll leave the three of you alone. Let me know if there is anything you need, or if there is any change."

Jared didn't say anything. He just continued to stand there and stare. The doctor quietly walked out of the room. Mrs. Ackles sat in silence as well. She then turned to Jared and spoke.

"You really do love him don't you?"

"Yes…I do…more than anything."

"I'm glad that he has you. For a long time, he didn't really have any friends at all. Everyone knew who he was, who his father was. It was tough for him."

"Yeah, I know. It took awhile for him to warm up to anyone, including me."

She stood up and walked over to Jared and placed a hand on his shoulder.

"I like you Jared. I just want you to know that I'm okay with this. You are the best thing that has happened to him in a long time. He's lucky."

"No ma'am. I'm the lucky one."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~BH&RS~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The following Monday morning, Jared snuck out and hitched a ride to the hospital. He knew that it wouldn't take long for others to realize he was gone, but he didn't care. The day before, Jensen had moved his hand. He still hadn't opened his eyes, but Jared knew that wasn't far behind. He didn't want to miss it.

As soon as he reached the hospital, he walked in the doors and up to the ICU. He checked in at the nurse's station. He had to wait for Dr. Kripke to come down before he could go into the room. Since he had been released, they were a lot more restricting on his access.

When the doctor arrived, they walked to Jensen's room. Jensen's eyes were still closed, but Jared noticed that his head had changed position. As he walked closer, he saw that Jensen was actually moving his head from side to side slightly. He went back to the door and called down the hall to the nurse's station. He then went back to the bed and grabbed on to Jensen's hand.

Dr. Kripke called for a couple of nurses. He went to the other side of the bed. When the nurses arrived they headed to the foot of the bed.

"Call for his mother. I believe she is down in the cafeteria."

"Is this it? Is he waking up?"

"It looks like he's trying. Just keep talking to him."

Jared continued to squeeze Jensen's hand, which he squeezed back.

"Come on, dude. Just open your eyes. Yeah, that's it. Just open your eyes." Jared continued almost like a chant.

Jensen's mother walked into the room then. She asked, "What's wrong? Is everything okay?"

"He's waking up!" Jared looked at her with a huge smile on his face.

It was a few minutes later that Jensen finally cracked his eyes open. He blinked a few times and then opened them fully. The doctor leaned forward and shined his pen light in his eyes. Jensen tried to move his head away.

"Jensen, can you talk to me? Do you know where you are?"

Jensen moved his lips, but was unable to speak above a whisper. Jared leaned in and put his ear up to his mouth. Jensen tried to speak again. When Jared heard what he said he smiled and then chuckled.

"What did he say?" asked Mrs. Ackles.

"He said, 'Stupid question…hospital.'" Jared couldn't help but laugh some more. Everyone else joined in this time.

"Good, he's aware. That's a great sign."

At that moment, Jensen reached up and pointed at his throat. Jared grabbed the cup of ice chips off the table and put one in Jensen's mouth. Jensen smiled and slowly gave them thumbs up.

"I want to check his reflexes."

He pulled his pen light back out of his pocket and moved to the foot of the bed. He pulled the sheet up to expose his feet. He then ran the light up the center of each foot. When both of his feet reacted, he put the light away and looked up.

"Looks like there is little to no paralysis. That's great."

Jared looked down at Jensen and smiled. "Ya here that? You're gonna be just fine."

Jensen spoke, a little louder this time. "Paralysis?"

The doctor looked him in the eyes and spoke.

"When you got shot, one of the bullets lodged next to your spinal cord and caused some swelling. We were worried that you might suffer some paralysis due to that swelling. It appears that our worst fears have not come true."

Mrs. Ackles turned to the doctor and to Jared. "Can we have some time alone?"

Dr. Kripke looked from Jared to Mrs. Ackles and then said, "Sure. I'll be back in a little while to check on your progress."

"Thank you doctor."

"I'll be right outside," Jared said, then walked out the door.

The doctor and nurses walked out of the room and closed the door behind them.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~BH&RS~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

His mother looked down at Jensen and smiled.

"Mom? What are you doing here? Dad said…"

"Don't worry about that. It's no longer an issue."

"What do you mean?"

"We had it out shortly after you talked to him. Then when this happened…" She got quiet and looked away.

"I still don't want anything to do with him. It's just too much to deal with."

"That's okay. He's agreed to keep his distance, and your brother, sister, and I can visit whenever we want."

Jensen looked into her eyes. There were tears there that he just couldn't hold back anymore.

"Honey, what's wrong?"

"I'm scared." The tears broke loose at that.

She squeezed his hand. "It'll be okay. Just let it go."

He cried for a few minutes, then tried to compose himself.

"I want to see Jared."

"Okay, honey. I'll go get him."

She got up and walked out the door. A moment later, Jared walked in. He slowly walked over to the chair and sat down. He could tell that Jensen was in pain.

"Are you feeling okay? Do you need me to get the doctor?"

"No, Jared. Not yet."

"Okay. Just let me know if you need me to."

"How long was I out?"

"A month…"

Jensen closed his eyes and tried to absorb the information he had just been given.

"You okay?"

"Yeah, just hard to believe. Everything that happened…Oh God! Is everyone okay?"

"Yeah, everyone's fine. The gunmen and Cali are dead."

"How 'bout you?"

"I'm good. A little sore, but it'll be fine."

"Why are you sore? What happened?"

Jared sat in the chair next to the bed and for the next hour told him about everything that had happened since he had been shot. By the time Jared finished, his eyes had begun to water. He got choked up and had to stop talking.

"What is it? You okay?"

"Yeah…I was just so scared that I'd never get to see you again, or talk to you again. I really thought I'd lost you that night back at school."

"I'm gonna be okay. I do have to admit that wasn't the best idea I'd ever had. I just couldn't stand the thought of them hurting you. It sent me over the edge. I couldn't just sit there and do nothing. I guess I'm more like my father than I thought."

"Don't talk like that. You are still nothing like your father. They deserved whatever happened to them."

"Yeah…"

Dr. Kripke chose that moment to walk back into the room.

"Jared, there's someone here that says you're supposed to be in class right now. He doesn't look too happy."

"Jared, did you sneak out, again?"

"Um…yeah…" He smiled down at Jensen again.

Morgan walked into the room, and stood silently as Jensen looked over at him with a smile on his face.

"Jensen!" He was at a loss for words.

"Yeah, it's me."

"Great to see you awake, boy. You really had us all worried."

"Yeah, I get the picture."

"I'll leave the three of you alone, to catch up."

All three said at once, "Thanks doc."

He left the room with a smile on his face.

Epilogue, Author's Notes & Thank You's

Epilogue

Graduation day came in mid-May. Jensen had been out of the hospital for a little over a month. He had worked as hard as he could and managed to catch back up with the rest of his classmates. Everything was looking up. He was also excited that his family would be at graduation. It had been about a month since he'd seen them.

Jared was also graduating, having worked his butt off to get his grades up. He didn't have to work nearly as hard as he had anticipated. He was surprised to find out that he had mostly Cs in all his classes, except for math, which was an A.

After months of nothing, he finally heard from his parents. Like usual, they wouldn't be coming to see him, but he found out that his younger sister would be there. He hadn't seen her since he had been sent to Garden Ridge.

Chris was also graduating, despite his attempts to fail all his classes. His family was proud of him, and they were all there to celebrate.

Everyone was excited to see Steve. After everything that had happened, his parent's had kept him out of GRP and enrolled him in another school closer to home. They hadn't wanted him to go to the graduation, but he insisted.

All the families had gathered, and Dean Morgan and the Headmaster were up on the stage. When Jensen's name was called, the entire crowd and student body cheered. When Jared walked across the stage, he got a standing ovation.

When it was all over, everyone met back up with their family and friends. Jared brought his sister over to meet Jensen's family. They had revealed their relationship to Megan in the days prior, and she had been surprisingly accepting.

The seniors would be clearing out of the dorms the next day, so they would all be spending the night one last time.

Chris had stopped by Jared and Jensen's room before he headed back to his own to finish packing.

"I can't believe we did it. We're free!" Chris said.

"Yeah, and we are all more or less in one piece." Jensen smirked. They all chuckled at the statement.

"Yeah…"

"Well, guys, I'll see y'all in the morning. I've still got packing to do, and y'all look like y'all need time to yourselves. Oh yeah, Jensen, I've got something of yours. I kept forgetting to give it back to you. A lot's happened."

Chris handed him a notebook. It was the same notebook he had picked up that night Jensen had been shot.

"I figured you might want to finish what you started."

After Chris left the room, Jensen opened up the notebook. He looked at the picture he had drawn, and the unfinished song.

"Wow, I had forgotten about this."

"I hadn't. Thank you. They are beautiful."

"The song is cheesy. It's not even finished."

"I love it…and I love you!"

Jensen looked Jared in the eyes and said, "I love you too."

The End

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~BH&RS~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Here's where I talk about this monster and the people who helped me along the way.

I'd first like to say that this is the longest anything that I've ever written.

So, the idea for this thing came about in a series of coincidences. The movie itself is one that I've loved ever since I first saw it back in '91. It's one of those movies that whenever it's on TV, I have to sit and watch the whole thing.

About a month or so before the sign-up, someone somewhere on my flist made a post about the movie and it's two main characters, and how slashy their relationship was. This made me see the movie in a whole other light. Also, around that time, I just happened to catch the movie on TV. It had been a long time since I'd seen it. That is when the idea for this fic came to me.

In the movie, the character of Joey Trotta dies when he is shot by the terrorists. I went round and round about this fact, and how I should approach it in the fic. The way I went with it turned out for the best as it gave me a direction to go in the last third. I rather like the way it turned out, and I hope that y'all do as well.


	2. Leaving Home

**Leaving Home - Part 1 - Prompt Fest #2 Prompt Fill**

Nov. 18th, 2011 at 8:30 PM

**Word count:** 9,000+  
><strong>PairingCharacter(s):** Dean/Sam (Slightly AU/Way Off Canon), Sam/OMC, glimpses of Sam/Brock and Sam/Jess  
><strong>Rating:<strong> NC-17 for explicit abuse and some language

**Warnings:** bottom!Sam, dub-con becoming serious non-con, abuse, some bondage, spanking (starts out as BDSM; ends as abuse), potentially triggering scenes of rape and abuse.

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing and no one. Sniffle.

**A/N: **I had the best editor known to man. She is brutal but the most fabulous I've ever had! Thank you so much **jane_potter** for turning a piece of crap into something that's at least readable! My last changes, though, are unedited. Any errors are mine.

Written for the **abused_sammy** Prompt Fest #2. My mind is maybe a little bit darker place than it really needed to be for the prompt. **wolfish_willow**, I hope this is even close to what you wanted. Prompt was:_Stanford Era: Sam somehow finds himself in an abusive relationship while going to school. He doesn't fight back (at first b/c of his need to feel normal, or maybe he feels he deserves it for how he feels about Dean or whatever the author feels works). School and everything else is kind of taking a back seat to this. But then Dean comes to check up on him._

**Summary: **Sam loves Dean, of course, but not at all like he's supposed to. Ashamed of how he feels, Sam heads to Stanford to try and get over it. What he finds instead is that absence really does make the heart grow fonder and that true monsters don't always come from Hell.

**Leaving Home**

Sam remembers every detail of the ride to Stanford to this very day. Really, you tend not to forget the worst day of your life.

Dean had insisted on driving Sam all the way to his new doorstep. Sam sat quietly on the passenger side of the Impala and watched the scenery - and his life as he knew it - slip away. The silence was thick, heavy, and full of words neither man could bring himself to say.

Dean was bewildered in that way only a loving brother could be - wondering why his brother was so anxious to leave him so far behind, but so oblivious to the fact that that was really the last thing Sam ever wanted. In fact, it was what Sam wanted that was driving a wedge in his family and splintering them right down the middle. For him, it had only ever been Dean. His only real father, his only real brother, his only real love.

Sam had loved Dean his entire life. He'd been _in love_ with him since he was 13. The day he realized he was in love with his brother was the same day he stopped looking too long in the mirror. And if he couldn't meet his own eyes, there was no way in hell he could look Dean in the eye.

Dean noticed after a while. Chalked it up to hormones and laughed it off. He hugged Sam hard and told him the emo crap would stop about the same time his voice stopped cracking. Sam died a little more every time Dean touched him.

He nearly took his favorite blade to his wrists the night Dean dropped him off in Palo Alto. Instead, Sam sat in the dark with a liquor bottle in one hand, Dean's gruff lingering goodbye flipping through his mind and his knife buried in the floor between his feet.

Flinging the empty liquor bottle in the general direction of the fireplace, Sam stared into nothing - desperate to hear Dean call him Sammy just one more time. When dawn came, Sam wiped his eyes, dried his palms on his jeans and then moved on.

Sam had been at Stanford for five months when he met Brock. Brock reminded him so much of Dean that Sam had to stop carrying his pocket knife because the pain slammed back so strongly. Sam fucked him up against a wall - Brock's legs wrapped around his waist and Sam's eyes locked on Brock's mouth. Sam called him Dean when he came. Sam punched the brick wall that he'd just fucked Brock against and broke two fingers on his right hand. Brock dropped him off at the hospital. He didn't wait with Sam. Sam never saw Brock again.

He hadn't heard from Dean in three months.

Two months later, Sam met Jess. She was the female version of Dean. Every time she opened her mouth, Sam missed his brother a little bit more. Sam was very careful to be as quiet as he could be when they fucked. They were together for six months.

Dean hadn't called in almost a year.

Four months after he and Jess split, Sam met Tom. Sam had no idea how his world was about to change. Tom told him he would see; that Sam would never be happier than he was with him. Sam believed him. Considering his life up to this point, it really wouldn't be all that hard for Tom to accomplish. And for awhile, Sam _was_ happy. Tom was _nothing_ like Sam's brother.

Dean never called.

The first time Sam and Tom fucked, Tom made it very clear he was not, nor would he ever be, a bottom. Sam was fine with that. God knows a little pain was nothing new to him. As long as he got off and remembered not to scream out Dean's name, he could care less who was getting fucked and who was doing the fucking. Looking back, he really should have been more careful - or hell, just more _aware_.

For the first few months, things went well. Tom was charming, attentive, and beautiful. He was refined, cultured, and still managed to be fun. Even with thoughts of Dean plaguing him every day, Sam found little isolated moments of happiness had started to fill his life. These moments of joy, no matter how brief, started poking holes in the darkness and sorrow of his days. Sam credited Tom with that.

Tom knew exactly what he wanted out of life. Sam on his knees was an integral part of that. At night, Tom's eyes would slide over Sam's naked body as it spread out under him on the bed. Tom could imagine what Sam would look like in a few years. He was already taller than Tom and his shoulders had broadened in the time he'd been at Stanford. Sam had taken to working out or running every day to get rid of some of his self loathing and suicidal rage. Where there used to be lithe, smooth muscle, there was starting to be serious brawn.

Nature had taken care of making Sam beautiful. Tom would make him obedient. Fate had brought Sam to Tom. Tom would put him right where he belonged - at Tom's feet.

Tom was nothing if not observant. He had seen how broken Sam was the second he met him. Sam wore despair like other people wore clothes. Oh, Sam did well enough hiding it, Tom supposed. Sam smiled and made friends and partied and went to movies and out to eat.

And if you weren't looking for it, you'd never see that Sam's smiles never quite made it to his slanted, hazel eyes. And if you weren't looking for it, you wouldn't see that Sam's mouth was drawn tight at the corners - like sheer will was all that was holding his smile in place. And if you weren't looking for it, you'd never see the faint sheen of tears in Sam's beautiful eyes whenever someone mentioned family.

Luckily for Sam, Tom was looking for it.

It started pretty quickly after that. Sam was still too apathetic at first to really notice. He'd make jokes about Tom's penchant for bondage or rough sex - questioning Tom in an almost disinterested manner about Tom's likes and kinks. Tom would usually laugh harshly and kiss him or shove his cock in Sam's mouth to shut him up. Eventually, Sam stopped asking.

Soon after, Tom started taking Sam with barely any prep at all. He'd slick his cock up with lube and just press inside Sam. It must have hurt Sam like hell, but god it was so much tighter this way on Tom's cock. Sam jerked the first time Tom entered him like that and moved as if to pull away. Tom grabbed him by the hips and held on. Sam grunted unhappily but took it. Tom grinned. Sam was a fast learner.

Under the guise of a spanking fetish, Tom managed to get Sam used to being disciplined. Hell, Sam even begged him for it from time to time. He wanted the discipline like the good little slave he was. The spanking moved from hand on flesh to whips and paddles and flogs. Sam stopped begging for it pretty quickly. But he never did say no.

Tom could see Sam break a little each day. The anguish never left his eyes any more - it flared to a beautiful flame of pain whenever Tom buried himself in Sam's bruised, beaten raw ass. Tom had started fucking Sam on his back more times than not just so he could watch the pain in Sam's eyes. Tom was happy. Sam was quiet. All Tom had to do now was get him out of school and safe at home where he belonged.

The first time Tom fucked Sam without even lube, things didn't go quite as he planned.

"On your knees." Sam obeyed, as always, wincing as movement pulled the red, raw skin on his ass and the back of his thighs. Tom placed the riding crop he'd just finished using on him to the right of Sam's shoulder - deliberately in Sam's eyesight - as a little reminder that Sam must always behave. It was time for the next step in Tom's plan. The blankness in Sam's hazel eyes proved to Tom it was time to move things along. Sam was nearly completely broken. He was almost his.

Tom grimaced at what he was about to do - fuck Sam without even a drop of lube or a hint of spit. It would be uncomfortable for Tom at first, but it was critical to show Sam exactly what he was - Tom's to use however he wanted. He let his eyes travel over Sam's bent body. Sam was silent and steady. He knew by now not to fidget and to wait for Tom. He'd fuck Sam whenever he wanted to, not when Sam was ready for it.

Reaching under the pillow, Tom grabbed the bottle of lube he kept there. Flipping the cap open then immediately shut again, Tom smiled cruelly. This was what he loved. Make his little slave think all was well. Get him used to how things were. He'd become complacent, docile; secure in his place and how to behave. Make him think he's a good little boyfriend and that Tom needed him, wanted him, hell, even loved him.

Then, he showed him what he was really worth. Let him know his place was wherever Tom put him and that if Tom decided he should sleep on the floor of the porch in December, then that is what he would do, and he would not whimper, and he would not complain. Let him know that things like kindness and compassion no longer existed in his world. That they had been replaced with the words Master and Sir just as easily as the slave would be replaced whenever Tom felt like it.

Fucking Sam without lube would take care of several things at once. Sam would understand Tom could do whatever he pleased, Sam would learn his pain meant nothing to Tom, and Sam would learn to suffer quietly and please Tom regardless of how he felt. Tom hoped Sam would only need one lesson. Fucking without lube always chafed like a bitch.

Sam was definitely unprepared for Tom to enter him without any lube at all. He'd steeled himself for the pain of being fucked without stretching. The burn and knifelike pain was almost commonplace to Sam by now. As much as he hated it, Sam felt he deserved no better. Tom had been good to him, and if he liked things rougher than Sam did, that wasn't too much of a problem. Hell, Sam was a Winchester. Pain was their middle name, right?

If Tom ever knew how Sam felt about his own brother, he's quite sure there would be a hell of a lot more pain than the little bit he'd had to endure so far. Hell, any human contact, no matter how painful, was better than no contact at all, wasn't it? Dean wasn't here; Tom was. Might as well make someone happy.

Sam heard the snick of the lube bottle opening and closing and heard the rustle of Tom moving himself into position. The moment he felt the head of Tom's cock at his hole, he knew something wasn't right. There was no cool, wet slick. Tom's cock was hard and dry. Tensing, Sam started to twist around to look at Tom.

Immediately, Sam felt Tom drive into him. The pain was excruciating. Sam screamed and flattened himself against the bed trying to pull himself off Tom's cock. It was no use. Tom followed him down to the mattress, holding on to Sam's left arm with one hand and reaching for the riding crop with the other. Viciously, Tom brought the riding crop down where he could reach - Sam's leg and side.

"Shut the fuck up and lie still", he hissed. "If you keep trying to buck me off and you continue to struggle, I swear to God I'll kill you." Sam didn't still. If anything, he increased his efforts to free himself from Tom - Sam was bucking, twisting, and kicking, but he couldn't get enough traction on the slippery sheets. Tom simply wrapped his feet more tightly around Sam's legs and laid his weight fully over Sam's back.

Tom began to thrust as hard as he could, making sure to bottom out as painfully as possible. Sam tried to head butt Tom as he felt himself tear and stretch, but it was useless. He couldn't connect like he needed to. As Tom pressed further and further into Sam, Sam felt his ass become slicker and wetter. He thought at first that Tom had come and was surely almost done with him. As Tom continued to pound into him, though, it became sickeningly clear that the slick was not Tom's come, but Sam's own blood.

"Take it, slave." Tom hissed. "Fucking lay still and take it! I swear to God if you keep trying to fight me that I will make sure this lasts for hours and then I will start in on all the other things I've been waiting on - worse things." Tom dropped his head and whispered close to Sam's ear, "I might even call your family, Sammy boy. What do you think about that? Hmmm?" _Oh, fuck_, Sam thought. _Not that_. "I think your family would just love to meet your boyfriend. What do you think, Sam, huh? Wanna bring me home to Daddy?"

Sam shivered. He could imagine what pain was in store for him, but anything would be preferable to Dean or their Dad finding out about how Sam had let Tom treat him. He couldn't believe he'd been so blind. God, he was so fucking stupid. For just a moment, Sam gave up. Stilling, Sam buried his face in the sheet between his balled up fists. That moment was all Tom needed.

Tom rutted into him hard and fast and Sam could feel himself tear a little more each time. After he quieted, Tom grunted his approval. "Good little slave boy. Take it like a man." He started pulling his cock completely out of Sam on each thrust to make sure he stretched and pulled at the spasming entrance of Sam's hole as much as possible. This made it even more painful for Sam as Tom's cock popped in and out of the abused ring of muscle.

As he lay there bleeding, Sam got a sudden vision of Dean. His cocky smirk danced on the back of Sam's tightly closed eyelids. "Gotta take it like a man, Sammy," Dean had said. Sam couldn't even remember what they'd been talking about, but the thought of Dean suddenly slammed against walls that Sam hadn't even known he had.

Dean had never wanted Sam like Sam had wanted him. God, it was probably a good thing. Jesus, just look at him. Cowered underneath a man with none of Sam's training and experience - experience fighting monsters, for God's sake. Sure, Tom was a whole new kind of monster for Sam, but fuck, why was Sam even here? Why hadn't he stopped Tom the very first time he'd caused Sam pain? Had Sam asked for it? Wanted it?

How fucked up was Sam to let this happen? From the sound of it, Sam was meant to be kept like a slave. Disgusted at what he'd allowed himself to become, Sam closed his eyes in resignation. He's never see Dean again. Even if he did, Sam would never be the same again.

Dean would never want him now. Not ever. Not even as a brother. _Dean._ Oh, God.

"Sammy!" A thousand miles away, Dean jerked awake. He didn't know what woke him or why he was yelling Sam's name. What he did know was that something was wrong. A chill began in his gut and curled its way up his throat. Shaking, Dean flipped open his cell and hit speed dial 1. Sam's phone rang and rang until his voicemail picked up. Dean slammed his phone shut and hit redial. He didn't care if it was 4 am, he was going to hear Sam's voice, and he was going to hear it right the fuck now.

As Sam's phone continued to ring to voicemail, Dean was up and getting dressed. He was checking his weapon bag when Sam finally answered. "Sammy!" Dean yelled. "What the hell, man? What took you so long to pick up?"

"Who the hell is this?" A strange voice answered. "Do you know what fucking time it is?"

"Yeah, I know what fucking time it is," Dean answered. "Where's my brother?"

"He's asleep."

"Put him on the phone."

"No. He needs his rest."

"Put. Him. On. The. Phone. Now." Dean's voice was low and measured and brooked no argument. Dean didn't know who this person was, but he had to understand that when he wanted to talk to Sam, Dean better get to talk to Sam.

"Look..." the man started.

Dean interrupted, "You and Sam are, what, friends or something, right? I assume, anyway, since you're answering his phone at ass o'clock in the morning and you're definitely not his roommate. I met him before, you know. Nice kid."

"What..." the man tried again.

"So," Dean talked right over him. "He's probably told you about his family, right? That we're all hunters? Good ones. I'm sure he mentioned that. Had to have." There was silence on the other end of the line. Dean continued, the nonchalance of his tone hiding his growing anger and fear. "Maybe you're a _really_ good friend, huh? Maybe he even told you how much big brother - that's me, by the way - loves his weapons. Did he mention that? I've got the prettiest set of matching pistols you've ever seen. Beautiful. And my revolver and my shotgun...Oh, and the knives... Well, never mind that now. You can see them, if you want, _friend._ Right up close and personal when I come knocking in about 10 hours or so."

"You'd have to find me first." Sam's phone went dead.

"So, Sammy," Tom said softly. "It seems you forgot to tell me about your brother. Why did you forget that, Sam? Hmmm?" Tom's voice was careful and quiet. It was frightening. "He just called you, Sammy."

It had been hours since Tom had fucked Sam without lube, and instead of that being the end of his pain, Tom had continued to "play" with Sam. Every time Sam thought they were done, Tom would wait an hour or so, then come up with a new "game" he just couldn't wait to play. Sam was now crumpled in the floor barely able to move, and tried to scramble further into the corner as Tom crouched over him.

_Dean. Oh, god. Dean._

"Tell me, Sammy," Tom continued. "Why did your brother choose to call you on this particular night? Hmmm?" Sam flinched as Tom ran his hands gently through Sam's tangled hair. His fingers caught on the dried patches of blood caked in Sam's hair and pulled painfully against Sam's already battered scalp.

"Can you answer me, Sammy?"

"I..." Sam had to stop and clear his throat. One of the "games" had included Tom fucking Sam while he jerked the belt he had wrapped tightly around Sam's neck. The sight of Sam's blood red face and his eyes rolling back in his head excited Tom so much he came faster than he planned. He broke a couple of Sam's ribs to make up for it.

The next game an hour or so later was to see how long Tom could keep Sam's throat closed off with his cock until Sam started to thrash and claw for air. Sam really needed to work on his lung capacity. Tom made a mental note to add that to Sam's upcoming training.

"I don't know," he forced through his ravaged throat. "He hasn't called me in more than a year."

Tom knew Sam's brother hadn't called any in the last few months unless he'd called when Sam was in class or around campus. Tom had gradually worked it so he spent nearly every moment Sam wasn't at Stanford with Sam. He'd started to separate Sam from his friends and discourage outside interests. It was unlikely Sam was lying to him. But still. Tom stood and kicked him in the side anyway. Tom was going to have to move Sam, and that was fucking annoying. Sam was going to pay for this.

Dean pushed the Impala as hard as he could, covering the 1000 miles between him and Sam in less than 11 hours. He stopped once the entire trip. After a quick detour for a piss, coffee and lots of energy boosters, Dean slammed back onto the highway. He didn't let off the gas until he skidded into the parking lot of Sam's last known address.

Dean had visited him here before. Sam never saw him, but he stopped by at least every other week when he first dropped Sam off. Eventually, his visits dropped to once a month. If that happened to coincide with the night he watched Sam fuck a man with suspiciously full lips and spiky dark blond hair in a filthy alley, that was nothing more than a coincidence. Once he saw Sam with the tall blonde woman more than three times, he knew Sam had settled down. His visits dropped to every other month, then not at all.

He reassured himself the squirming mass in his gut was anger because Sam chose Stanford over his family, and had nothing to do with watching Sam sling his arm over the woman's shoulder like it would be there for the rest of his life. After a while, he almost started to believe it.

Dean flew up the steps to Sam's apartment and pounded on the door as he pressed the doorbell. When no one answered in 30 seconds, he did it again. If no one came this time, he was opening that door himself. No one did. He had just lifted his foot to kick the door in when someone cleared their throat behind him. "Sammy..."

Mark had just gotten out of class and headed to his apartment for some much needed rest. Medical school was a bitch. He cursed the day he ever decided to be a surgeon.

As he climbed the last of the steps to his front door, he watched a man pound viciously on his door and hurried to reach him. Clearing his throat, Mark watched as the man swung around scowling. He could tell the man was speaking, but Mark couldn't seem to make sense of what he was hearing.

This man had Hell in the back of his eyes. They were a dark, grass green that pinned Mark to where he stood. The man was furious and fire was spitting from the cracks of his irises. For the first time in his life, Mark was so scared he didn't think he could even blink.

The man stepped toward him and shook him roughly. Mark knew he had to listen or this man was going to take him apart. Frowning, he forced himself to pay attention as the man's deep hoarse voice washed over him.

"...Sam. Tell me where he is. Now." Sam. This had to be Dean. This was Sam's brother - the man that Sam had spent the better part of a year crying over in the dark. Suddenly, Mark understood. Dean was here to bring Sam back.

"I swear to Go..."

"I don't know where he is," Mark blurted out. "I haven't seen him in weeks. His boyfriend. He- He was controlling, you know? Kept Sam on a tight leash. Worked him away from us - pulled him away so slowly we weren't sure if it was real or all our imagination. Then one day, Sam just wasn't here anymore."

Dean's face twisted as Mark spoke. Something dark and ugly and mean crawled over Dean's face like Hell itself was creeping out of his eyes. "You just let him...I am going to kill that mother fucker." Soft and slow and dark. It scared Mark more than any screaming ever would.

"I want to come." Mark said. "I can help. I can..." Mark stuttered to a stop as Dean gritted his teeth and stared at Mark.

"Obviously, you can't do anything," Dean said. Mark had no reply to that. Quickly, he gave Dean all the information he had on Sam's boyfriend Tom and how Sam hadn't moved out, he'd just stopped coming home for longer and longer periods of time.

Dean listened carefully and the anger faded from his face. What was left terrified Mark and he never thought he could get any more frightened than Dean had already made him. Dean's face was nothing but pale skin stretched tight over cold hard steel. There wasn't a millimeter of give anywhere to this man. Dean was focused and he was intent. When Mark was done speaking, Dean lifted his eyes and made Mark a promise. "I'll get him back. Pack up his things for when we come back."

Mark didn't doubt for a second that was true. He just hoped when Dean found him, that Sam was still alive. For all of their sakes.

Sam woke to a world of darkness and pain. Groaning, he tried to jerk upright, but hit his head almost immediately. Gingerly reaching out, he felt around him. He was bound. His hands and feet were loosely tied, but not so much to restrict his movement as to just attach him to something. It didn't take long to realize he was in a box of some kind. _Oh, God._ Tom had made him a coffin.

Sam tried to scream, but couldn't. He scrambled frantically until he realized there was something over his face and in his mouth. Clawing desperately at his face, Sam felt leather instead of skin. Sam tried tearing the tough material until his questing fingers came upon a hidden zipper. Ripping the zipper up, he pulled the leather from his face and flung it on his chest. As he did, he could feel the gag in his mouth - one that was buckled behind his head and was so large it forced Sam's jaws so wide he could swear they were dislocated. Quickly unbuckling the gag, Sam gasped for air and started crying. Fuck, he hurt everywhere.

Opening his mouth to scream, Sam noticed he could barely see light seeping into the box through cracks in its construction. _Oh, thank God._ At least Tom hadn't buried him alive.

Not yet anyway.

PART 2

One of the first things Dean noticed when he entered Tom's house was the man sized packing crate sitting in Tom's living room. Walking quickly to the box, Dean shifted the crowbar he'd brought to pry open a window or door if he had to. Dean heard movement and labored, panting breathing inside the crate. Mother fuck. Sam was in there. Dean slammed his teeth together so hard he thought they were going to break.

This wasn't how it was supposed to happen. Sam wasn't supposed to be trapped in a fucking pine box in some sick fuck's living room. Sam was supposed to be learning shit he'd never use outside of college. Sam was supposed to be shacked up with that tall blonde Dean had seen him with and busy with his stupid friends.

This...This shit wouldn't stand. Dean would guarantee that. No matter what Dean saw when he pried open the lid on this box, one thing was for certain. Tom was going to suffer a million times more than however he'd hurt his brother. No one fucked with Sammy and came out alive on the other side.

Prying the top off the crate as gently as he could, Dean paused for a moment before lifting it completely free. He was terrified of what he would see. Huffing out a hard breath, Dean quickly threw the lid off the box.

Sam was there, his face was turned from the opening and he had thrown his arms up to protect his face as the lid was raised - fists balled up and knuckles cracked and bleeding. Dean quickly looked him over, cataloging every mark on his naked skin.

Rage slammed through Dean like a locomotive. There wasn't a spot on Sam that wasn't marked by bruises, cuts or blood. Dean turned away for a second, fingers clenched and straining, mouth open on a silent scream of hatred, fear, and regret.

Turning back and being careful not to touch, Dean spoke to Sam. "Sammy. It's me. It's Dean. I've come for you Sammy. I've come to take you home. Come on, Sam. Come back to me, Sammy. Look at me, Sam, please. It's Dean. It's Dean. Sam. It's Dean..."

Sam had heard Tom come home - had registered the silence of the room and the faint footsteps nearing Sam's makeshift coffin. _Please God,_ Sam thought. _Please let this be over soon. One way or another. Please._

Sam heard the sound of Tom prying the lid off his coffin. As soon as it was lifted, Sam threw his arms over his face, fists clenched, sure it would increase his punishment, but well past the point of caring. He was weak from pain, lack of food and blood loss, but he would do what he could. The status quo was changing tonight. The Sam he had been since he ran to Stanford to hide wasn't here right now - weeping and ashamed and pleading for punishment for the way he felt about his own flesh and blood. Sam Winchester was here now - weakened and probably ineffective, but determined and inherently strong nevertheless.

Hopefully there would only be one of them alive by the end of the night. At this point, Sam didn't really care who that was.

Strung tight with the need to at least try to fight Tom, Sam stopped breathing when he heard his brother's voice, then began to wail when it became clear it was real and not some hallucination. Dean was here. Sam's need to be strong fractured and fell apart.

Dean hadn't spoken to him in over a year and there was no way in hell Dean could have known there was something wrong, but _still _Dean had found him. Dean always found him - when he was six and lost at a haunted county fair; when he was 13 and a misguided ghost took him and thought he was hers; when he was 21 and held captive by his psychopath of a boyfriend. Dean never, ever failed.

Dean had fallen silent when Sam began to yell and struggled against the ropes that held him loosely in the crate. As Sam moved and twisted in the confines of the box, Dean saw the rest of Sam's injuries. The blood caked heavy on the back of Sam's thighs and between his ass cheeks shoved Dean's soothing words right back down his throat - choking him on anger, bitterness and despair.

The things Sam had been through were painted across his mottled skin and wound through his croaking, fractured voice. His pain lived in the words he forced through his split lips, and his hurt breathed through sobbing cries of heartbreak and loss. Sam's ordeal was mapped with scars and bruises and open wounds - painted in blood and piss and feces and sweat. Dean gritted his teeth and choked on the bile rising from his gut. This was all his fault. He had let this happen.

Dean leaned over the box and grabbed Sam as he struggled with his bonds. "Sam," he yelled. "Stop this shit! You are not going to get free that way! Look at me, Sammy! Now!"

Slowly, Sam raised his eyes to Dean's. He had stopped yelling and was now deathly quiet. Dean was afraid he had scared Sam, but Dean reached out and grasped his hand in his, and Sam's fingers desperately closed around Dean's. "I'll do it," he whispered. "I'll untie you."

"Sammy." He whispered as he struggled to cut through blood and sweat soaked rope. "I love you, Sammy. I do." Sam gasped and cried out - a short burst of joy and pain. "I never told you enough, Sam, but, fuck, I love you so much." Dean had finally removed all of Sam's restraints.

Sam's face collapsed into a grimace of pain as the ropes pulled out of his abraded flesh, but he ignored it and threw himself out of the box and into Dean. Dean braced himself for Sam's weight, closing his arms around Sam as Sam's momentum drove them to the floor. He turned them after they fell so Sam was cradled in his arms and safe halfway underneath him. Murmuring to him, he rubbed Sam's head pressing kisses to the cuts and scrapes and bruises on Sam's face as Sam cried.

"That's my baby, Sammy. That's my Sam. Come on, now. Stop that, now. It's over." Dean whispered to Sam of loving him and missing him and when he came to visit and why he stopped. He wiped snot and blood and the past off Sam's face and neck, and swore to him that they would never be apart again - piecing Sam back together where he had split apart; healing cuts and loss and separation. As Sam started to quiet, Dean talked to him about Mark and about packing all his things. He told him they had to hurry so they could get out of there before Tom came home. Sam was finally silent - a few hiccupping breaths the only indication he was still conscious. Dean lifted his head and peered into Sam's eyes. He could tell Sam was going into shock. He had to hurry.

Dean slowly loosened Sam's hold and scrambled to his feet. Sam lay, still and unmoving, his eyes locked on Dean's face. "Come on, Sammy. I've got to get you to the car, okay?" Sam nodded - a movement so small, Dean almost thought he'd imagined it. Dean stooped to lift Sam into his arms, not sure if he would be able to carry his giant brother, but determined to get Sam as far away from here as he could. Sam had lost so much weight since he'd left Dean that Dean could lift him with barely any problem. Clenching his jaw, Dean filed that fact away with all the other horrors he'd found tonight.

Quickly carrying Sam to the Impala he'd hidden at the back of the house, Dean placed Sam on the blanket he already had spread over the back seat. He hadn't been sure if he would be burying Sam in it, or protecting him with it, but Dean had known he'd need it no matter what. Thankfully, Sam was here with him - breathing harshly in Dean's back seat. Pulling two more blankets over Sam, Dean crooned to him until it appeared that Sam had fallen asleep.

Dean ran back into the house and grabbed his crowbar and put the lid back on the packing crate. If that fucker came home early, Dean didn't want him to know right away that Sam was missing. He quickly cleaned up the vomit and blood from the floor as well as he could and shifted the coffee table to hide what he couldn't quite get up. One last look, and he sprinted back to the Impala.

"I'm taking you to the hospital, Sammy, alright?" Stirring, Sam barely nodded. "I'm going to be apart from you, Sam, for just a little while. I need to come back here and finish up so no one knows, okay?" Sam opened his eyes and they were full of fear. "I'm going to leave while you're being examined, Sammy, okay? I know it's shitty as hell to do to you, but I've got to finish this. Can I, Sam? Can I come back while the doctors are taking care of you?"

Sam studied him for a moment, then croaked, "Swear to me you're coming back and you can go."

"Sammy, I swear to you that I am coming back. Once this is finished, we are stuck together forever. You'll be so sick of me, you'll probably murder me in my sleep just to get away from me." Sam smiled at Dean - just the smallest twitch at the corners of his mouth, but enough to send Dean whooping and hollering as he slammed the back door of the Impala and slid into the driver's seat. "That's my Sammy," Dean crowed. "That's my baby bro. We're going to the hospital, and then I'm going to make this all go away." Becoming more serious, Dean turned and looked over his shoulder at Sam. "There won't be one bit left, Sammy, by the time I'm through. Not one bit left."

Sam smiled again and closed his eyes. Dean would make it right. Dean always made it right.

Dean carried Sam through the emergency room doors screaming for a doctor. He spouted his made up story about Sam being attacked and raped and how Dean had found him on the side of the road like this. He screamed at them to take care of him and to hurry. He told him that Sam was barely conscious and couldn't seem to remember either Dean or what had happened. He rambled and he cried and he threatened and he set the stage for what he was about to do.

When the nurse came to tell Dean that Sam was in surgery to repair various damage, Dean glanced down at his blood soaked hands, then started to cry and yell about having to get his brother's blood off his hands. He asked haltingly how long it would take in surgery. The nurse ran her hand over his hair, and looked at him with such compassion Dean thought she was going to offer to bathe him herself.

"He's hurt pretty badly," she almost whispered. "It could take hours."

"I've got to g-go," Dean stuttered out. "I've got to get this off me, and get Sam some decent clothes for when he wakes up. I'll be back before the surgery is over." When the nurse started to tell Dean he really shouldn't go, Dean let all the sorrow and pain he had show in his eyes. In a cracked, crawling voice, he whispered, "I can't wear his blood a second more. If I have to see it ever again, I think I'll die."

As Dean turned and walked away, the nurse pressed her fist against her mouth. Even with all the death and pain she saw every day, this sorrow was just too much. Biting her lip, she went to check on Sam's progress.

Dean stepped out into the crisp night air, and shuttered his eyes and his heart. He had things to do. His job wasn't quite done.

Tom left work, whistling and jaunty. His special crate should have been delivered a few hours ago, and Tom had closed the biggest deal of his life just this morning. He decided a nice meal out and a good long session with his waiting slave later on would round out his day perfectly.

Tom's grin turned feral and dark when he thought of Sam bound and waiting in his box. It had been a stroke of genius. Not only was it the perfect way to move Sam without anyone knowing, but it was the perfect place to keep him long term. Soon enough, Sam would grow to love that box almost as much as he feared Tom. He would understand that was his only safe place - when Tom chose to let him have it.

He had only had one day to play with his new slave, but damn it had been a good day. He couldn't wait to get started on what he had planned for tonight. _Careful,_ he thought to himself, _don't forget to be at least a little careful. After all, he didn't want to kill his slave the very first day of his official training. That would be no fun at all. He had a lot of time invested in Sam. No need to waste it._ Tom chuckled. He'd been much harder on Sam than was usual, hurting him much more than he normally would, but it was important at the beginning to drive home how powerless Sam was and that Tom had all the control. That he could do anything he wanted with Sam. Anything, and it was useless for Sam to struggle. Sam was much stronger than Tom's usual picks, and Tom had to break him carefully and completely.

Grinning, Tom started his car and headed for his favorite restaurant.

Two hours later, Tom strolled through his front door sated and full. He had eaten his favorite meal and fucked his favorite waiter hard and fast in the bathroom. It was just enough to take the edge off a little - make it so he could take his time with Sam tonight.

Slamming the door, Tom gave a cursory glance at his mail, dropped his suit jacket on a chair, and stepped into his living room. "Oh, Sammy." Tom called. "Are you here, Sam?" Sure enough, Sam's crate was resting on the floor in the middle of the living room. "Well, there you are honey," Tom sneered. "Hubby's home. What's for dinner?"

Laughing, Tom stepped toward the crate, but was stopped abruptly. For some reason he couldn't breathe. Raising his hands to his throat, Tom was baffled to feel two strands of thin wire cutting into the flesh of his neck. He was too confused at first to struggle much, then too weak from lack of air to put up much of a fight. Still frowning, Tom passed out.

When Tom came to, the first thing he saw was the face of his attacker. Tom moved gingerly and determined he must be bound to a chair with a gag shoved in his mouth. Taking a look around him, he saw the dark concrete walls of his basement. The first tendrils of fear snaked their way into Tom's mind. He knew without a doubt that this man was his executioner. And he'd never really gotten to break Sam in. _Son of a bitch._

Gritting his teeth, Tom waited, looking over the man in front of him. There were lines etched across the pale skin of this man's beautiful face, and Tom had no doubt he'd put them there. Even with death staring him in the face, Tom couldn't help but notice just how gorgeous his murderer was. Tom was under no illusion that he didn't deserve what was coming, but he had a moment of perverse pleasure that his reaper looked like a fucking Greek god. _The best for the best_, he thought. _I may be going to Hell, but I'm going there in style._

He stifled a chuckle, though, as the man began to speak - gravel crunching in his throat.

"You know who I am, so I won't waste your time with pleasantries. Wondering how I found you? Let's chalk it up to one of life's little mysteries and leave it at that.

"I had quite a lot of time this afternoon to take a good long look around your house. Found a lot of things that make you a very naughty boy." Dean spit out. "You and I are going to have one hell of a time, Tom. Let's get started."

Tom closed his eyes against the snarling anger of the man's face. He was in for a world of hurt. Tom knew that for sure.

By the time Dean stepped out of the basement, he was covered from head to toe in blood and skin. His hand was broken - cracked against Tom's face and ribs so many times the bone had no choice but to shatter. He had slipped off his boots before he headed down so there would be no prints to leave on the pristine carpet. Reaching for them now, Dean slid them on and stepped the rest of the way into the room.

Dean dragged the crate to just outside the basement door. He quickly cleaned up any evidence he and Sam might have left throughout the house. He had been very careful to wear gloves in the house until Tom came home. Once he had him tied, he very deliberately removed those gloves. He would feel his pain flesh on flesh and bone on bone. Once he was done, he was very careful not to touch anything he didn't have to.

The upstairs done, Dean went downstairs to the basement. Tom was tied just where he left him. Dean could see the barest movement of one eye as Tom followed Dean's movements. Grimly, Dean dragged Tom by one arm out the door of the basement, clucking as it jumped out of socket as Dean tried to pull him over the raised door jamb. "Oops, sorry about that. I'll try to be more careful from now on." Dean continued dragging Tom until he came to the crate. Once there, Dean dropped Tom's arm and crouched over him.

"I had a lot of time this afternoon," Dean said, "while I waited for you to come home. A lot of time to plan and to think. A lot of time to dig." As he spoke, Dean reached to the side and dragged aside a tarp that had been laying on the ground, revealing a deep hole roughly the size of the crate.

Dean stood, dragged Tom into the crate, then picked up the hammer and nails he'd brought from the Impala. As he slid the lid into place, Dean watched as stark terror and that inevitable moment when all hope was gone filled Tom eyes. Dean's face twitched into a snarl of such satisfaction he wasn't even remotely comfortable with himself any more.

Dean had always known the lines. They were black and white - he killed monsters, demons and ghosts and he saved humans. Period. There were no other rules. Until Tom. And even as every instinct Dean had was screaming at him to stop - Tom was human; don't kill humans - Dean slid the lid into place over Tom.

Nailing the lid on the crate and ignoring the weak struggling inside, Dean finished and lowered the box into the ground and covered it with the dirt he'd removed earlier in the day. He carefully moved the extra dirt to the surrounding flower bed and replaced the sod he had so carefully removed earlier in the day. If you weren't looking, you would never know the ground had been disturbed. Dean gathered his crowbar and his hammer and put it back in the Impala.

He walked back to the basement and set fire to the rags and gasoline he'd left there earlier. There were spots of rags and accelerant in every room of his house. As the fire spread, it would increase as it burned through the house. In a couple of hours, the house would be unrecognizable. Locking the door and wiping both sides of the door handle, Dean shut the door and headed for the Impala and Tom's other home.

Pretty soon, it was also ablaze. "Not one bit left, Sammy. I promise."

Dean rang Mark's doorbell, anxious for a shower and Sam's things. He carried a change of clothes and a couple more weapons hidden on him than normal. A girl Dean had never seen opened the door. Dean, unsure who she was, opened his mouth to start some story about a car wreck, but stopped abruptly when she screamed, "No! Sam!"

Mark came rushing for the door. His mouth fell open as he saw Dean for the first time. Pushing the door open, Dean stepped into Mark's living room. Five other people - some that Dean recognized from his visits - stared at him in shock. Someone cried out and someone's glass fell to the ground and shattered.

Mark gasped, "Sam?"

Dean glared at him and then each of the other people in the room then turned back to Mark. "Sam's in the hospital in surgery. This isn't Sam's blood," Dean snarled. It only took a second for his words to sink in. Mark closed his eyes for a moment, then met Dean's again.

"I've got his things ready. We want to see him."

Dean looked at everyone again. His first instinct was to scoff. No one in Palo Alto was ever coming near Sam again for any reason. Not one. These were the people that didn't even help Sam when he needed it. If they had just paid more attention... Closing his eyes, Dean struggled for the right words for a moment.

"I'll let you know what he says." He looked each person in the eye one more time. "If it were up to me, you people wouldn't get within a thousand miles of him ever again." They understood. This man stood, calm and implacable even for being covered in blood and bits of bone and flesh. He had not only saved his brother - a brother he hadn't seen in over a year - when his brother's friends who saw him every day couldn't, but he had taken the person who dared to touch Sam and reduced him to stain and stink and bad dreams. No one would defy him.

Turning to Mark, Dean asked, "Mind if I use your shower?"

Mark showed him where it was, then came back to his and Sam's friends. "You know he killed Tom," Mark whispered. Everyone nodded. "Anyone upset by that?" Mark asked. Not one person moved. The girl that answered the door glanced at the bathroom door and said, "I wish I had a brother like that. I wish I had _anyone_ like that." This time, everyone agreed.

Dean came out of the shower dressed and carrying his old clothes in a plastic grocery bag. Everyone stood silently as he left. Dean hid his bloody clothes in the trunk, loaded Sam's things into the Impala and headed out.

It was another hour until Sam was out of surgery, and it would take him at least another hour to wake up from the anesthesia. Dean gave his story to the police that came to file a report, then settled in to wait. Once Sam was in a room and recovering, the nurse said he could go sit with him.

An hour and a half later, Sam woke up. His eyes found Dean asleep in the chair at this side, and he started crying. Dean had come back.

Sam agreed to see his friends, but only if they didn't mention his injuries or what had happened. As long as they pretended nothing had happened, they were welcome. Dean grudgingly told them, and they showed up the next day at Sam's room. Ignoring the rules, all of them went in together. They gasped when they saw their friend's battered face, but they didn't mention a word about what had happened.

They hugged and kissed Sam as carefully as they could, and told him how much they missed him. They all pretended that nothing had happened and that all of Sam's possessions weren't squirreled away in the back seat and trunk of the Impala. They all ignored the fact that this may be the last time they ever saw Sam again. Soon enough, they were laughing - stilted and forced at first, real and loving after a time. When Sam yawned for the fourth time in a row, Dean made them leave, nodding curtly and firmly closing Sam's door behind them.

Smiling, Sam drifted off to sleep.

Three weeks later, Dean wheeled Sam out of the hospital and into the Impala. Sam happily settled into the passenger seat - right where he belonged. He had seen his friends at different times almost every day since he'd been in the hospital, and had told them all how much he loved them and would miss them when he and his brother left.

It was lies, of course, and platitudes. Enough false jocularity to assure his friends that they weren't the horrible people they were afraid they were.

He and Dean picked up as if nothing had ever happened. Thinly veiled conversations about football, TV, and the news layered over regret, bitterness and despair. When they'd seen news stories about both of Tom's properties being destroyed by arson, they didn't speak at all, merely listened to the newscasters speculate about the perpetrators and Tom's mysterious disappearance.

The police stopped by shortly before Sam was released, apologizing for not being able to catch Sam's attacker, but swearing to keep searching. Sam thanked them for their persistence and watched as they left the room - secure in the knowledge they would catch the man if they could just get one lucky break. Dean reached over and gently squeezed Sam's hand. Sam never asked what happened to Tom, and Dean never offered to explain. Sam didn't need to know.

It had been the hardest three weeks of Sam's life so far. He was nowhere close to healed - physically or mentally - and Dean had shadows in his eyes that Sam couldn't erase - shadows that may never go away. But Sam was with Dean. It was all he needed and everything he ever wanted. Anything else would work out when it was time.

As Dean popped into the driver's seat, he twisted around to look at Sam. "Ready to head out, Sammy?" Dean asked. He reached out, ghosting his fingertips over the hand Sam had resting on the seat between them. Sam had been looking out the window, and barely felt the touch it was so light. "I'm thinking we need to see the Grand Canyon right about now. What do you think, Sam?"

Sam merely smiled. "I'll take that as a yes, Sammy boy. Here we go!" Dean started the Impala and put it in gear. "Let's get the hell away from here."

Sam sat quietly on the passenger side of the Impala and watched the scenery slip away. The silence was thick, heavy, and full of words neither man could bring himself to say. Words like _forever_ and _love_ and _brother _dropped between them as surely as if they'd been spoken, slithering around them and binding them together.

As the miles passed, Sam sank deeper into his thoughts, remembering something Dean had said to him in the hospital just a couple weeks before.

_I'll say it again, Sammy. Demons I get. People are crazy._

Sam couldn't agree more.


	3. Barry White Never Sang Like This

**Barry White Never Sang About This**  
>K Hanna Korossy<p>

"Okay," Dean said, sounding nonplussed. "This is…different."

Yes, Sam silently agreed, looking over all the faces that stared back at them. While audiences during a hunt were more frequent than either of them preferred, they still didn't usually have the whole town there to witness the takedown. At least it had been one of their better ones, neither of them hurt, the Terichik wholly dead, no innocents caught in the crossfire. Smooth as silk, besides the fact that the Terichik had been ready to swallow the whole town, and that had been a little hard for even the oblivious townspeople to ignore.

Hence the hundred or so people staring at them with dumbstruck disbelief.

Dean cleared his throat and leaned a little closer to Sam, eyes not moving from the crowd. "You think they'd buy the 'we're shooting a movie' story?"

Sam's mouth flattened, and he took a step forward, sliding effortlessly into empathy. Dean couldn't really remember a time when he didn't know about what dwelt in the darkness, but Sam could. "It's okay now. Everyone's safe—the creature's dead. You're safe."

That unfroze a few people, and there were stirs, murmurs. _What was it? _and _Who are they? _and _My God… _Someone finally asked the first.

Sam shook his head. "We don't know yet exactly, but we're with Fish & Wildlife and we've been tracking the creature for a while. There was only one, and it's dead now." Pretty much all a lie except for the last, but the end result was true enough.

"It looked like that…thing in _Tremors_," someone else ventured, and whispers agreed. In the back of the crowd, Sam spotted someone in a uniform and hid a wince.

"Look, there are some animals out there we're still discovering, in caves and underwater and in the mountains. What matters is that you're safe now. The threat's been taken care of."

Dean, leaving it to him thus far, spoke up now. "Time for everybody to go home. Get those kids to bed, settle down. We'll clean up here—that's our job."

There was a time for empathy, and a time to give orders. Dean excelled at the last. Sam watched as the still shell-shocked crowd responded to the voice of authority, starting to stumble off to their homes. They'd have more questions in the morning once the fear wore off, but by then the Winchesters would be long gone, and the Terichik would be a smoldering patch of ground.

While the families and elderly were leaving, though, the younger people and those uniforms in the back and a few single adults continued to press in on them, the questions starting in earnest now. Sam fell back a step, a little overwhelmed by the crowd, and felt Dean's eyes dart quickly over to him. Just like that, the guard was changed and Dean slid smoothly into place in front of him, answering the inevitably curious and rolling out lies more effortlessly than the truth. He'd always been better at that, anyway.

And at dealing with groups. Sam was the finesse, good at coaxing reluctant people to talk and sympathizing with the bereaved. Law enforcement, the inquisitive, the people who needed to be schmoozed, or browbeaten: that was Dean's purview, and Sam was glad to leave him to it. He moved back a few steps more, breathing in the cool night air and blocking out the babble of voices.

They hunted now for more than altruism, or vengeance, or even to honor Dad. The Demon and Sam's own mysterious destiny had made it all a moot point, made hunting a matter of survival. Sam had to keep looking for answers, and Dean would go where Sam went. But in the meantime, his big brother was right: they had to kill Evil where they found it. They knew too much to look away.

That didn't mean he wanted to do this, or that he enjoyed it. In fact, after his taste of normalcy, it was harder than ever to return to it. He wanted a home to go to at the end of the day. He wanted to not worry about Dean all the time. He wanted to chart his own course like others got to, and not fear where his own mind would take him. He wanted to not be responsible for other people's survival.

He wanted a _life_.

Shoving his hands deep into his pockets, Sam started walking. They still had the Terichik to burn, but they needed to wait until everyone went home to do so. And Dean would know he was coming back.

Or so Sam hoped, anyway. It had taken most of the previous year for him to realize Dean was constantly braced for Sam leaving again. Then their dad had died, and Sam was all the family Dean had left. Sam had let school go since then, and many of his dreams, but still he knew that Dean's fear he'd someday be alone lived deep inside his brother's heart. And while Sam had needed to go find his answers when Dean hadn't wanted to, he knew sneaking out during the night a few weeks before to go look for them had only carved that fear deeper. One more thing he didn't want to be responsible for.

Coffeeville—a name Dean had heartily approved of—could've been called Kudzuville for as much of the stuff as grew around there. That pretty much described the whole South, actually, but Sam rarely had a chance to examine the local flora. They were always off on the next job, or hip-deep in the current one, and there was time for little else. As a kid, he'd enjoyed looking up the plants and trees they came across; he'd actually learned a lot from their cross-country lifestyle. Dad had used every stop as a learning experience, not just for hunting but for geography, history, sciences. The road had been his school as much as his home.

Sam rubbed his eyes, shoulders sloping. Sometimes it was easy to forget all the good things because the bad was so _bad. _But there had been so much positive, too, like people who cared about him and a safe home on four wheels and always food on the table and clothes on their backs, if never in abundance.

And a brother who'd always been a buffer between him and the harshness of life. How much harder had their childhood been on Dean, who hadn't had that protection? He'd never complained, not then, not now. Nor thought Sam owed him, but he did. He did. If not his future, at least his present, now when Dean was struggling so much and needed him. When he could be Dean's buffer…and maybe still lean on him a little, too. For a while, at least, until they figured things out. If there was one thing Sam understood now, it was that Dean needed his brother as much as Sam did. They were each other's only family.

As purposes went, it wasn't a bad one.

Breathing deeply, Sam turned, starting back the way he'd come.

"Excuse me?"

His head came up at the sound of the soft feminine voice, startling Sam from his thoughts. He'd probably walked a mile or so; houses were still all around, but fields were starting to stretch off in the dark-cloaked distance. The stars seemed brighter away from the lights of "downtown." Far enough out that a girl with a stalled car probably needed some help, and he turned his long stride toward her side of the street.

She was petite, shapely, and with curly blonde hair that would have drawn him two years before, but that now made him flinch inside. She was in cut-offs and a baseball shirt, just about right for the warm night, and the Ford beside her was dark and silent.

"You need some help?" Sam's hands closed around the phone in his pocket. Dean would doubtless be very happy to check out her car, and, if she was willing, its driver, too. "I can call—"

"Actually, I think it might be the radiator—darn thing soaks up water like a sponge." She shrugged, exasperated. "You live around here? Maybe I could get a refill from you?"

He'd reached her now and looked down into the engine, fairly clueless as to what he was seeing. His dad and Dean's attempts to teach him basic car repair had left him with a few part names and vague bits of information, but checking the oil taxed his limited knowledge, let alone trying to diagnose any malady. He'd always had his family for that and hadn't driven at school. "I'm sorry, I don't. But I could call—"

He was turning around to face her again, and had just enough time to see her shove something at him and to feel it jam into his stomach hard below his ribs. That was when the fire began to flow through his body.

Taser, he realized in the split-second before the current reached his brain. Ambush.

His muscles seized, feet going out from under him, and his head cracked hard against the pavement. But she went down with him, her oval face blurring, determinedly continuing to shove the small weapon into his gut, until it felt like his chest would explode because it was so tight. He tried to say something and nearly bit his tongue in the process, jaw locking.

_Why? _

His vision was graying. His head flung back again, and if he could have cried out, he would have. He couldn't breathe, his body completely beyond his control.

_Dean._

And then the darkness took him completely, his pretty attacker the last thing he saw.

00000

No matter what Sam teased him with, Dean knew he was good at lying. Yeah, maybe he couldn't sweet-talk the old biddies and the wary victims like Sam could, and as far as Dean was concerned, Sam could keep right on doing so. Because the fun lies, the ones to the cops and the beautiful women and the snot-nosed teens, those he excelled at. That was one of the reasons, in Dean's opinion, the Winchester boys made an unbeatable team.

Some things were a little beyond even his exceptional talents, however, and that included a thirty-foot dead carnivorous worm lying in the town square that they'd just killed in front of a boatload of witnesses.

Didn't mean it wasn't a challenge he could pass up.

Slowly, the remaining group thinned, trickling away. The cops were the last to go, but even they couldn't argue that killing a creature like that and obviously saving lives was no crime. Dean fielded the offer of a round of beers if they hit the bar outside town that night, patted the last uniform on the back, then rolled his eyes as he turned away and started looking for Sam.

Who'd vanished into the night. Awesome.

Dean hadn't been too surprised when Sam had gotten that slightly frantic look in his eyes as the crowd has pressed in; he'd never been one for big groups even before he'd started to fear there was something wrong with him. Sam dealt best with one or two people at a time, folks he could focus on and connect with. Anything more was a real effort, and Dean usually had no problem stepping in to fill the gap.

Of course, Sam didn't usually disappear on him then.

Sighing silently, Dean looked back at the Terichik. They still had to burn the puppy, and that was oh-so-much fun as a solo job. Not to mention, they didn't usually have to burn things the size of a bus in the middle of town. Bound to attract some more attention when he'd just worked hard to deflect it.

Dean circled the creature, giving it an experimental kick, considering. Well, it wasn't like it was coming back to life if it wasn't immolated. So it left a cryptozoological carcass—_I know some big words, too, Sammy_—for the bigwigs to study. So what? It would give the Weekly World News grist for the mill for weeks.

The decision was easy enough to make. Turning his back on the Terichik, Dean headed in the opposite direction.

His brother had always liked to take off to sort things out by himself. When they'd been kids, it had been favorite hiding spots wherever they went, homemade forts and natural caves and solitary corners. As they got older, it had become long walks or just kicking gravel around the parking lot. Now, Sam often sat outside their room, shivering or sweating until Dean coaxed him back inside.

Dean didn't really get that. Okay, so he wasn't a big thinker and dweller and brooder like Sam. But when he did have something on his mind, solitude was the last thing he wanted. It was why Dean had finally shared Dad's last words with Sam, even if he'd regretted it many times since. He just hadn't been able to bear being alone with that secret any longer. Without any distraction, the doubts and fears and longings gnawed at him like a friggin' black dog. Better to be among people and noise, to let distraction ease the worst of the pain. A barful was ideal, but Sam at his side was turning out to be more than enough. His brother had no idea how much he did for Dean's sanity.

But Sam needed different things, and lately Dean wasn't so sure he himself could provide what Sam gave him. That Sam wouldn't wander off one night to think and come to the conclusion he needed something more, and never come back. Dean had been certain Sam would return when he'd slipped out the night after Rivergrove…until he hadn't. The fruitless search for that Ava chick hadn't made him any less restless to find his _answers, _either—answers Dean was pretty sure would only make things worse—and after what Sam had drunkenly forced him to promise the previous week… Well, let's just say every morning when he woke up to an empty bed beside him, Dean's heart started hammering until Sam's ugly mug peered around the bathroom door or came in hot and sweaty after an early-morning run.

But he was coming back tonight. Dean was sure of it. He had to be, because the other option made his palms damp and his heart thump. There were no weird gray areas in this hunt, no brushes with death. They'd saved a town, killed something bad with their training and planning and teamwork. If there was a job to be proud of, it was this one. Okay, yeah, so usually hardly anyone else knew, and there'd be a few kids with nightmares tonight. But bottom line? This was a win, proof they were the good guys. Sam should've been celebrating, not moping.

Stupid emo little brothers.

Dean had walked several blocks already, and there was no Sam in sight. No way even of telling if he'd gone this way or turned off at one of the corners before. Dean couldn't search the whole town for him. They'd planned to leave town before morning came and the questions began in earnest; maybe Sam was already back at the motel. Yeah, probably, Dean realized, and turned toward their home-away-from-home on this job. And if Sam wasn't there yet, he'd show up soon. Even stewing, he was a responsible guy. He knew his job. He knew Dean would worry.

Right, because he wasn't worried already.

00000

Sam lurched awake on full alert. Maybe by day he could pretend sometimes he wasn't a hunter, but his instincts knew better.

Like the fact that waking up lying on a hard metal surface in his shorts and undershirt wasn't normal. Or that neither was every muscle in his body aching as if he'd spent the whole previous day running and climbing. Or that the pull on his wrist meant handcuffs, and even Dean at his grouchiest had yet to cuff him to his bed while he slept.

But this wasn't his bed or even their room, and there was no Dean in sight in the dim…

…cage. Sam groaned. He was lying on the floor of a metal cage, one arm cuffed to the bars.

"Right, of course. Why not? I mean, my life didn't suck enough already," he muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose, then letting his hand drop to the cage floor. With a sigh, he pushed himself up, wincing as his sore body flexed. "But does it always have to BE A CAGE?"

A few seconds later, he realized he was waiting for a response that wasn't coming.

Folding back against the bars, Sam took in his surroundings a little more fully. Sadly—he snorted at the thought—he was becoming kind of an expert on cages, and this one wasn't so bad. Bigger than the one a demented shapeshifter had stuck him in once, and less filthy than the Benders'. It sat at least a foot up off the ground on some kind of base, and it looked like it had been built for large animals, maybe wildcats, high enough to sit up or crouch in but not stand. It was secured only by a simple padlock. Of course, his lock pick set and any other possible weapon or tool was gone, so that didn't help him too much, and only one hand would have been able to reach the lock, anyway. The lack of clothing was getting to be a disturbing trend he could do without. At least he could be grateful whoever his captor was this time had left him his underwear, he supposed. Not really enough against the chill of the room, but better than nothing.

Well, there was a remedy for being cold. Sam started moving, prowling the edges of his reach, rattling bars and testing the solid floor and ceiling. Nothing gave, not even when he lay on his back and mule-kicked the metal bars. It just left his bare feet bruised and sore.

He finally gave up that pursuit and pulled his legs in toward his chest to conserve heat. "Hello! Can I at least get a blanket here or something?"

Still no response. Sighing once more, Sam thunked his head back against the bars and examined his surroundings again.

There wasn't much to see in the light, which seemed to be filtering through a small, high window in the wall to his right. It was just enough illumination to outline some shelves on the wall, boxes lining them and the floor below, the long shadows throwing any details or contents into gloom. If Sam didn't know any better, he'd have guessed he was in some suburban home basement.

Right, with a cage in the center of the room.

Shivering in his thin, sweaty clothes, Sam absently rattled the cuff and tried again. "Hello?"

He was surprised when a door opened above him, a rectangle of light quickly blocked by a figure.

Sam straightened as much as he could, alert and tense. "Please. I need some help here."

The figure approached slowly, down a set of stairs with small, light steps. It almost looked like a…

Teenage girl. Blonde, curly hair, slender, with a stalled car. Memory came back in a rush, and Sam stiffened, pressing slightly back into the bars behind him. "Christo."

She cocked her head at him, eyebrows drawing together over eyes that remained light and clear.

And somehow that didn't reassure him all that much. "Who are you?"

It came out harsh because, well, his manners tended to get a little rusty when he was being held captive and half-naked in a cage. The girl winced a little, and Sam reined himself in with effort. She didn't look or act malicious, and it wouldn't do him any good to scare her off before he could talk himself out of…whatever this was.

"Please," he said more quietly, holding up both hands in supplication, the cuffed one unable to reach far. "I don't know what's going on, but no harm done so far, right? Just…let me out, and we'll pretend this never happened, okay?"

Her eyes wide, she finally moved closer, and her features became clearer as she hovered just out of Sam's reach. Her cheeks were flushed, and her expression was…enraptured.

_What the…?_

"I'm Violet."

Of course she was. Sam's jaw worked, and he tilted his head. "Violet," he managed. "My name's Sam. I'm a federal offi—"

"You know how special you are?"

He paused, mouth still open, throat suddenly a little dry. Wait, she knew—?

"I've been waiting all my life to meet someone like you, but there aren't a lot of real heroes out there, y'know?"

Sam took a breath. Okay, so she didn't mean…_special _special. That was good. What wasn't so good was that apparently Violet was the reason he was there, which meant she probably wouldn't be helping him get out. And she couldn't have moved him in there by herself so she had a partner somewhere, too. Perfect. They didn't have enough evil things after them already; now it was psycho chicks with a crush who had their number. Dean would be laughing his head off. After he got Sam out of yet another friggin' cage.

Sam gentled his voice with effort, giving the girl a practiced soft gaze. "Violet…I'm not a hero. I was just doing a job. With my partner, who's already looking for me." Dean would be going crazy by now; judging from the light in the window, it had to be at least morning. "Please, I know you…you just wanted to…" Actually, he had no clue. Sam shook his head, held up his hands again. "…but, I need to go, all right? Other people need help, too. So if you could just—"

She smiled at him like he was an especially adorable toddler. "You don't have to worry—I've thought of everything." Violet unlocked the door and quickly pushed the bundle Sam now noticed she'd been holding—a blanket, a bucket, a bottle of water, and a plate of what looked like mac-n-cheese and fried chicken—hastily withdrawing before he could grab at her. "I'll take care of you."

Sam blinked. "Violet, I'm a person—you can't just keep me in a cage."

Her smile turned brittle. "You'll like it here, I promise. Don't worry." She turned and hurried up the stairs.

"Violet!" Sam called after her, climbing awkwardly to his knees. "Please, don't do this. If I helped you, please, don't—"

The door slammed shut hard in her wake.

Sam slumped back against the bars.

Well, crap.

00000

Sam hadn't come back.

Dean had gone to bed the night before, only to spend a restless, sleepless few hours twisting the sheets, expecting the door to open at any moment. But it hadn't, nor had the phone he'd left on the nightstand, volume turned up, rung even once. Sam was gone. Again.

Somewhere around dawn, empathy became edged with hurt, especially when Sam's phone went straight to voicemail. After the second time, Dean stopped calling.

He chewed on his nail as he swung irately from the closed door back to the room. He was so freakin' tired of this. Tired of trying to keep Sam happy so he didn't leave. Tired of worrying it wouldn't be enough. Tired of being abandoned as soon as something better came along: school, the hunt for the Demon, word on Dad, Sam's destiny crap. Tired of having no one at his side, at his back.

And, yeah, okay, maybe just a little bit scared by it all, too.

Dean kicked aside his brother's duffel and dropped onto the end of Sam's bed. He should've known. He still wasn't sure what had set the kid off the night before, but the distant look in Sam's eyes, the aloofness: Dean should've known Sam was ready to rabbit again. Stopped him before he left.

But how many times was Dean supposed to go after him when his brother obviously had other priorities? Where was the fine line between loyal and pathetic?

Then again, Dean's mind traitorously added, what if Sam hadn't left by choice?

He shook his head, made another fruitless circuit of the room. He'd _watched _Sam pull into himself and retreat the night before. No one had been holding a gun to his head. His laptop bag was missing, and he'd turned off his phone. No, Sam had to have taken off because he wanted to. Again.

"Fine," Dean growled to the empty room. "You hate this life so much, stay gone. Quit playing me like some kinda yo-yo, Sam—I've got better things to do."

But all he did was continue to pace, only stopping occasionally to check his traitorously silent phone.

00000

The next time the door opened, Violet wasn't alone.

Wrapped in the blanket, Sam deliberately kept himself slumped and small this time. He watched warily as the guy came downstairs, Violet just behind him. Didn't even stir as the man, at least a half-foot shorter than Sam and with a scraggly dark goatee and fuzzy hair, reached slowly through the bars to retrieve Sam's plate.

The plate he hadn't touched. He saw the guy show Violet the food, and her small nose wrinkled in displeasure.

"You didn't eat."

His shoulders contracted once in a soundless laugh. "Being locked up in a cage kinda takes away your appetite—go figure."

"You have to eat. You'll get sick."

"Let me out then."

She frowned, and once again Sam felt like she was seeing a kid when she looked at him. "You know I can't do that. You have to eat."

Sam turned his head away, conversation ended.

He could hear Violet huff her frustration, and the low murmur of discussion with the guy. Boyfriend? Although, what kind of man let his girl hold her crush captive in the basement? For that matter, what kind of person did, period? Was he as crazy as the girl?

"If you don't like the food, tell me what you want and I'll get that," Violet finally said.

His jaw flexed but he didn't turn back.

"Sam."

"Let me out," he said evenly, "then we'll talk. You don't…" His frustration got the better of him, and he turned back to face her, teeth grinding. "God, you don't just…_take_ somebody if you like them and lock them up like an animal. I have a life, Violet—I have a brother who's worried sick about me. If I'm some kind of hero, then this is, what, how you show your gratitude?"

The words struck home, or at least he saw her flinch. Then raise her chin. "I'm not gonna keep you down here forever, I promise. I just…I don't want you to leave, okay? This is just until I know you're gonna stay."

Dean would have had a few things to call the girl, none of them complimentary. But the fact was, she couldn't be completely sane, not if she seriously thought this was the way to win him over. Even rabid fans didn't usually take their idols captive and keep them in a cage. Sam whooshed out a breath and dropped back against the bars, tuning her out again.

"Violet, leave him alone." That was the guy, speaking for the first time. "You knew he wouldn't be happy about this. You said you were ready for that."

Sam cut his gaze over to him, assessing the guy from under the cover of his mussed bangs, this time eyeing him as a potential ally.

"But…" Violet sounded small, bewildered. "I'm trying to be nice to him. I like him."

"You zapped him, and you're keeping him in your dad's old vet cage, Violet. He's not gonna thank you."

Sam smothered a snort. Thank God, they weren't both totally insane.

"You helped." Sulky now. Geez, how old was this girl, anyway?

"Yeah, don't remind me. Just…let him have a few days to settle in, all right? He'll listen to you after a while."

Wait a minute, a few _days_? Frickin' _no. _Sam growled and kicked out, the still-empty slop bucket clattering against the far cage wall and making both his captors jump. With a small shriek, Violet fumbled something in her hands, then shoved it frantically against the bars.

The steel of the cage conducted electricity just fine. The taser's burn instantly arced through every metal surface he was touching, even the cuffed hand. Sam's body snapped back against the unforgiving iron, voice caught in his throat in an inhuman yowl as his muscles went rigid, then began to spasm. He could almost feel the electricity sputter and spark down his nerves, freezing his brain.

God, it _hurt. _

He didn't quite lose consciousness by the end, but he wasn't really there, either. Sam's lungs stuttered, trying to suck in air, and his body twitched beyond his control. Something thick and wet trickled from his nose into his agape mouth, and his eyes couldn't seem to focus. He couldn't even push away when he felt something drift through his hair. The gentleness revolted him, and his stomach flipped, but his vocal chords couldn't muster more of a protest than a grunt.

"It's okay." She was trying to soothe him. Sam's hand fluttered up, then fell back again, his jerky headshake not dislodging her. "I'm sorry, I don't like to do that, but you scared me. You have to be nicer."

Right. Nicer. Top of his to-do list, really.

She stroked through his hair, then tugged on it gently. He didn't even realize what she was doing until there was the soft snick of scissors, and then the hair that had clung damply to his face…suddenly wasn't there.

Somehow, that made his eyes burn in a way the electricity and the captivity hadn't. He was well and truly helpless, and she wasn't letting her hero go anytime soon.

_God, just let Dean show up already and get me out of here. _

Because at that moment, screw his pride, his independence, his skills and his destiny. He felt sick, every single muscle was jerking with pain, she'd friggin' cut his _hair, _and Sam wanted nothing more than his brother to burst through the door in some cheesy TV-style rescue and get him off this twisted ride.

But when the door shut behind Violet and her friend, it just left Sam lying there alone and shaking in the dark.

00000

He was going to kill Sam. Slowly and painfully. Wasn't like the law ever caught up with them, anyway.

He had to find the kid first, though. Make sure he was okay. Then kill him.

Dean stepped out of the small town hospital and glanced both ways down the street, rubbing a hand over his mouth. No tall, floppy-haired John Does brought in the night before, not like everyone wouldn't recognize one of the town heroes. No body—thank God—in the morgue. Sam hadn't gotten another room, slept in the car, crashed on a park bench, or hailed a taxi, and as far as Dean could tell, he hadn't met anyone he might have gone off with for the night, if Sam ever even did that. The options were getting kind of limited.

Dean swore and stomped off the curb back to his car.

His resolution that morning to ignore Sam's absence had lasted all of fifteen minutes, five of which he'd spent reassembling the phone he'd thrown against the wall in his frustration. Dean still wasn't completely convinced Sam wasn't halfway back to California or off brooding somewhere, oblivious to the passage of time and the worry of older brothers. But with their job, there was more than an off-chance something had stopped him from coming home, and that was a possibility Dean couldn't just ignore. Even if it meant confirming what he dreaded.

Not that it had done much good. Three hours later, all he had was a list of eliminated possibilities.

"If he took off again…," Dean muttered under his breath as he unlocked his door. But even as he did, his eyes fell on Sam's computer satchel in the back seat. Crap. Sam might leave his brother behind, but his laptop? Uh-uh. Now Dean _knew_ something was wrong here. He could feel it.

He slid into the car with a curse, trying to figure out where to go next. It was a small town, and everybody knew them thanks to the previous night's show. Any place Sam turned up, Dean should've heard about by now. The kid was nowhere.

Dean smacked his palm against the steering wheel. "How does someone that friggin' tall just disappear?"

There was no answer.

Dean twisted the key in the ignition, then peeled away from the curb with a squeal of rubber, no clue where he was going, just knowing he had to look.

00000

Night had come before the door opened again.

The aftereffects of the shock had finally worked their way through his muscles, leaving him feeling like used chewing gum. Sam winced in the sudden light of the bare bulb above his cage, not even taking advantage of the illumination to make a visual check of his surroundings. He just braced himself as best he could for Violet again, body clumsy and hurting in ways he wasn't used to. So it was with surprise and relief when it was only the friend who came down the steps.

Sam's eyes shot around the cage, seeking a weapon, a plan. But he'd already explored every inch of the welded-solid cage, used the blanket to try to hook one of the boxes beyond, even tried to reach the bulb to pick his cuffs with the filament, without success. Finding nothing now, he fixed his gaze warily back on his visitor.

"She's not crazy," the guy said quietly after reaching the bottom and pacing a moment.

Sam's laugh was sharp. "Yeah. Right. 'Cause it's totally normal to lock strangers up in a cage in your basement."

The guy stuffed his hands into his pockets. Something about the body language and the goatee reminded Sam of that actor, the one in the pirate movies Dean liked so much. What he wouldn't give to be flopped across the bed with Dean, sharing a bag of microwave popcorn and watching cable. "She…she's had a hard life, y'know? Both her parents died pretty young. She inherited the house and an aunt who really was nuts; she hasn't had a lot of people to look up to, y'know? So when she saw what you did the other night…"

Sam took a breath and compartmentalized the anger, then drew up his knees to sit cross-legged: chummy, unthreatening. His torso ached as if he'd been thrown into several walls, his legs faintly trembling, but he hid the weakness. "All right, so maybe she's kinda…confused. But you, man, you know this isn't right. All it's gonna get her is more trouble."

The guy's lips pursed. "I know that! I do." He spun away in agitation. "I'm not saying I agree with her. But I guess I just thought…if she had a chance to try this, see it was a stupid fantasy, maybe she'd, I don't know, be ready to accept reality."

Accept _him, _Sam realized. People did insane, ridiculous, stupid things for love. Like make deals with demons.

He closed his eyes a moment and swallowed. No, not the same. Dad had done that to save someone he loved, not entrap him. _Only, it didn't exactly turn out that way, did it, Dad?_

"So how long do you expect to keep me here?" he finally said with amazing evenness as he looked at the guy again. "Until she gets tired of me? Until I can't fight back anymore? And then what?"

"Look, just…just give it a few more days, okay? Please. I won't let her hurt you—the taser won't kill somebody." At Sam's snort, the guy grit his teeth. "I'm…I'm trying, okay? You just havta give me more time. That's all I wanted to say." He turned away and started up the stairs two at a time.

"Wait!" Sam went forward on his knees before he even realized it, weakness nearly dumping him to all fours, but his chance was slipping away, and he didn't know when he'd get another. "Please, just…do something for me then, all right? Just one thing."

The guy's face was half in shadow, but it was turned to the side, listening. "Like what?"

Sam sank sideways to sit on the floor of the cage. "The other…agent I was with? That's my brother. He's gonna be worried about me."

"He's your brother?"

"Dean. His number's in my cell. Please, just call him and tell him I'm okay. Tell him…I'll be back, all right? Please." _Tell him I didn't leave_, he almost said, but he wanted to tell Dean that one himself.

The guy was frowning.

Sam strained forward against the cuff. "There's no reason to hurt him, too, right? C'mon, dude, you know it's the right thing to do."

The guy chewed the inside of his cheek a minute, then gave a short nod. "I'll think about it."

Sam watched him leave, then slowly shuffled back against the cage wall, shrinking into the blanket again as the door clicked shut above.

Okay, he'd just tried the only tool he did have. Time alone would tell if it worked.

00000

He couldn't keep doing this.

The hunts where Sam got hurt were bad enough. Or the nightmares that woke him gasping in the night. Or the grief that still sometimes burned through him—whether for Dad or for Jessica—leaving him red-eyed and dodging Dean's gaze. But the disappearing…

Sam vanishing on him, leaving Dean uncertain if he was even alive, not knowing where to look, desperate with the thought that it was all on him to figure it out in time: that was the hands-down worst. Worse than seeing Sam bleeding, or distraught, or white with pain. Because Dean's imagination was always so much more vivid than reality.

He no longer had any doubt that Sam hadn't left on his own. Dean was ashamed he'd believed that at all, except, well, Sam hadn't always had the best track record when it came to sticking around. A little doubt wasn't unreasonable.

No more, though. His brother wouldn't do this. Dean was sure of it.

He just had no clue who would.

Dean gulped down his cold coffee with a faint grimace. It was getting late, but there would be no sleep this night, the third one that Sam was gone. Not until he was safely sleeping in the other bed beside Dean. Not while Sam needed him.

With a weary sigh, Dean scrubbed a hand through his hair, then sank onto the edge of the bed and picked up his phone. Time to start casting the net wider than Coffeeville, the small town he was really starting to hate.

00000

Sam had managed to get some sleep after the guy's visit, tucking the edge of the blanket under his head and pulling the water bottle close as he curled up on the cold, hard cage floor to try to escape his discomfort. Really, he'd slept in worse circumstances before, but he'd usually had Dean with him.

Was Dean even looking for him? Sam knew his brother would never stop searching, leave no stone unturned if he knew Sam was in trouble. But had he just written off this time as Sam skipping out on him again? Wasn't like Dean had no cause to think it. The idea was crushing in more ways than one.

And ironic. Here Sam had been wishing for a new life, and now he'd give anything to have his old one back. Dean would roll his eyes over that one.

Sam turned aside that train of thought as the door above opened. He pulled himself together as best he could, wincing as he leaned his sore back against the bars.

Violet descended the stairs alone, watching Sam almost shyly all the way. She didn't turn the light on, so he didn't see her clearly in the dim outside light until she was close, when Sam realized the shorts and t-shirts she'd worn so far had been replaced. She was in a short dress now, the low cut accentuating her not-unimpressive bust. Her hair was loose and soft, and in just about any other circumstance, Sam might have found her attractive.

Amazing how not in the mood fifty-some hours in a cage made you, though.

"Like what you see?" she asked, her voice low and throaty.

Sam wondered again how old she was, because the childlike girl of before was gone. He watched her uneasily as she slipped closer, hips swaying.

"Sam?"

She probably had a key, if she wanted him to do more than look. Sam licked his lips, swallowed down his distaste, and also dropped his voice. "Yeah. Yeah, I do."

Violet smiled, one hand coming up to finger the bars as she circled the cage. "I'm glad. I knew if I gave you a little time, you'd see I wasn't bad. I just don't meet too many people like you."

"Me, neither," he said truthfully.

Her eyes crinkled. "You're so sweet. I told Phil I was right about you."

_Phil. _Sam pushed himself up higher, turning on the act as effortlessly as breathing. "Violet…it's been a long time. I had a girlfriend…" Her face clouded, and he hurried on. "She was killed, and…it hasn't been easy since then, you know?"

She melted again, fingers trailing against the bars. "I'm sorry. But I'll help you forget all about her, all right? I'll make it better."

He was pretty sure he was grimacing more than smiling. "What about…Phil?"

"Phil? He won't bother us. He helped me, you know, get you here and set this all up, but he's not my boyfriend or anything. It's just you and me." She was moving slowly around to the side, closer to him, watching him through her lashes.

Sam gave her a weak smile, the nails of his cuffed hand digging into his palm. He rubbed the other one against the bottom of the cage, forcing down his body's automatic retreat as she rounded the corner on his left. "Great. That's…good."

"You have no idea." Violet's voice dropped even more, and then she was close enough to touch, reaching tentatively through the bars to stroke his cheek.

Sam bit the inside of his mouth and didn't move. "It's just…this isn't exactly how I pictured this—us—Violet," he breathed over her caressing hand. Sam rattled the cuffs gently. "I can't—"

"You don't have to," she whispered back, kissing the back of his neck, wherever she could reach. Her hand slid down from his cheek to his shoulder, then his chest under the blanket. Sam's cheeks grew warm with mortification, her touch a mockery of everything he'd shared with Jess. He watched her out of the corner of his eye, calculating, body coiled under her fingers. Her elbow cleared the bars.

He moved as fast as his battered body was able, grabbing her, twisting in her grip to get a good hold. He lunged for her other hand and, hopefully, the keys.

But that wasn't what she was holding.

That close, he couldn't help see the shift in her eyes from pleasure to betrayal and anger. Her face grew red and blotchy, motions jerky with rage as she tried to pull away from him. With a furious cry, she jammed the taser against his bare upper arm, yelping as she caught the edge of the shock.

It was worse than before. Against his bare skin and not stopping, never stopping, the electricity was a liquid burn through his muscles and bones.

Sam's teeth clamped shut, cutting his tongue, his hands contracted into claws, and his body pulled tight enough to bend him back like a bow. The current shook his body like a flag in the wind, and his skull met the bars so hard that his vision instantly grayed. The pain quickly became a distant thing, beating over him like a heavy rain.

He felt his heels drum against the floor, and warm wetness down his face, his wrist, his neck, in his mouth. His spine felt like it was cracking as his body just continued to jerk and dance. Blood flowed down his throat, making him gag, and his lungs seized in his chest. Gray edged toward black.

He heard yelling in the background, and at some point the current singing through him stopped. But his body still spasmed and trembled, lungs locked and limbs flopping.

Unconsciousness was a mercy.

00000

Dean started awake in the car to the last dying rays of the sun. Sam had been gone almost three full days now, and Dean was no closer to finding him.

He groaned in the silence of the Impala, tipping his forehead against the steering wheel.

_God, please, just…where are you, Sammy?_

Three seconds later, his phone rang.

Considering he'd left about twenty messages for friends and fellow hunters during the night and the early hours of morning, that wasn't so surprising. Dean's eyes blurred as he fumbled the cell out, rendering the caller ID unreadable. He flicked it open. "Yeah."

There was a pause. Then, hesitantly, an unfamiliar voice said,_ "Is this Dean?"_

Sarcasm was on the tip of his tongue, but something turned it aside. "Yeah. Who's this?" He pulled the phone back, focusing with effort on the screen.

_Sam's Cell_

Mouth dry and fingers gripping the wheel hard, Dean returned the phone to his ear in time to hear the unfamiliar male voice answer him. _"Your brother asked me to call you. He, uh, he's okay, and he wanted you to know he'll be back. Soon. I promise." _

There was no taunt in the tone; if anything, the guy sounded apologetic. Which didn't make any sense at all. Dean's mouth moved a moment before he spoke. "Where is he? If you hurt him—"

_"He's all right, I swear. Or…he will be. I won't let her… Just, he wanted you to know, so you wouldn't worry." _There was a pause, but even as Dean started to say something, there was a whispered _"I'm sorry," _then the line went dead.

What the…?

But the guy, whoever he was, had called from Sam's cell. Which meant Dean could find him with the GPS now, and that was what mattered.

Because as he started the car and raced back to the motel room and the laptop, Dean was trying hard not to think about what _he will be all right_ meant. And about how his kidnapped and possibly hurt brother's only concern had been that Dean know he was coming back.

00000

Every breath hurt.

There was no part of him that didn't feel used and abused beyond its limits. His hands quivered like an old man's, and stray muscular contractions made his frame distort and jump agonizingly. Dried blood was crusted on his upper lip and chin and the side of his neck, flaking off when he swiped uncoordinatedly at it. But there were few things as demoralizing as simple breathing—chest muscles flexing, lungs expanding, ribs spreading—causing pain.

He stared dully at her as she came down, not really caring anymore what she wanted or why. Only that she leave him alone.

The light of the bulb shone off the wetness on her cheeks. "I'm sorry."

Sam blinked at her, hand twitching on the cage floor. From where he lay on his side, she looked towering even though her shoulders were hunched.

Violet seemed to realize that and crouched down, putting herself at eye level with him. "I didn't-didn't mean to hurt you. I just didn't want you to leave."

Dean hadn't, either, but he'd let Sam go, even when a simple request would have been fetter enough to keep him there.

Her fingers curled around the bars, white and trembling, too. "It wasn't supposed to happen this way."

Sam's eyes slid up to her. "It n-never is," he rasped.

"I don't know what to do," Violet whimpered.

He sighed, closed his eyes, then looked her in her wide and shining eyes. "Call m'brother." His words slurred appallingly.

"I can't! I'll be arrested, and…I can't. I just… You don't understand!" Her fluttering hands squeaked over the steel.

Sam tried to push up on one arm, only to have it wobble out from under him. He didn't know how long it had been since she'd tasered him, but it wasn't long enough, his body exhausted and dehydrated, his electrolytes probably in the cellar. Just to keep her in focus and talk clearly was all the effort he could muster. "Violet…I know you weren't trying to hurt me…but you did. Y'have to help m-make it better now. Call my—Dean. He'll know what to do."

"I can't. I can't," she moaned. "What if I just…I'll open the door, okay?" She fumbled for something in her pocket. "You can just leave, right?"

Sam tried again to maneuver himself upright, made it into a sort of lazy sprawl back against the bars, but his legs weren't near to holding him yet. He locked his jaw against the starbursts of pain throughout his body from even that and stared hard at his captor. "I can't go anywhere right now. Just…call Dean. Please. He won't hurt you." Sam hoped. Depended on if it was before or after he saw Sam's condition. Sam gentled his voice. "If you really want t'make up for things…Violet, you have t'do this. Help me."

She gulped, scrubbing at her face with her hands. She really wasn't very old and was orphaned just like he was, not even a Dean to snatch her out of the flames. Nobody but Phil, whose own moral compass had been screwed up by his feelings for her.

Maybe he and Dean weren't even as damaged as Sam sometimes feared.

"Please," he whispered, surprised at the compassion he felt for her.

She hesitated a long moment, then nodded and pushed to her feet. "Okay. I will. I will, I promise."

Which was when, of course, with a clatter and a curse, Dean arrived.

Thank God. Sam sank back against the bars in simple faith that his brother would fix everything now.

Dean shoved Phil ahead of him down the stairs, one hand on the guy's back, the other wrapped around his Colt. His features weren't clear to Sam's blurred eyes, but he could still feel his brother's glare, and his relief as he spotted the cage and its occupant.

"Sam?"

"Yeah," he sighed.

"You okay?"

Sam winced in response, and then a second time as Phil was slammed hard against the outside of the bars. Violet gasped.

Which was his cue to intervene. Sam pushed a little higher with a groan. "Dean. Don't. Let 'em go."

The room fairly vibrated with Dean's anger. "Dude, you've been gone three frickin' days, you're in a cage, covered in blood, looking like a five-year-old girl could take you down. Give me one good reason why I shouldn't."

Sam's gaze swam to him. "'Cause I'm askin'."

Dean stared at him a moment, then growled something that sounded like _one of these days that's not gonna work_ before jabbing his gun into the back of his jeans. He narrowed his eyes at the pair standing in front of the cage. "Fine. But you've got five seconds to get out of here, and I don't wanna see you two again, not even in my nightmares. You got me? Am I clear?"

Two dazed nods.

"Key," Dean snapped, holding out a hand. Violet timidly gave it up, then sidled past Dean to Phil, who quickly pulled her close with one arm and toward the stairs.

"Phil," Sam called quietly after him.

The guy paused, glancing back. Violet shivered and melted even more into him.

"Make sure she gets some help."

Phil nodded and hurried up the stairs with Violet.

Dean was already unlocking the cage door, ducking inside before the upstairs door shut. "Never answered my question, Sammy," he said, deceptively mild.

Sam breathed out—it was finally starting to hurt a little less—and closed his eyes as his brother got a hand under his heavy head. "Which one?" he murmured.

"The one about you being okay, dummy."

"I'll live." He groaned as Dean felt down his ribs, looking for damage. "Unfort'nately. Taser. Coupla times."

Dean stilled.

Sam forced his eyes open, his brain not too befuddled to figure out what his brother had immediately flashed to. Sam had gotten rid of the taser in their own arsenal, a move Dean had never challenged him on, after his brother's near-fatal electrocution. "'M okay, Dean."

Roughened fingers had already found his pulse, monitoring it in tight silence a few moments before reluctantly acquiescing the point. "Yeah, you look it," Dean muttered, tucking Sam's shaking arm in close against his body, then muttering an epithet as he discovered the cuff on the other one. "Anything else?"

His vision was cutting in and out anyway, so Sam let his eyelids fall again. "Hit m'head." He breathed slowly as he felt Dean move away from his cuffed wrist before careful hands tipped his head forward and ghosted over the knot near his crown.

"Did they feed you?" Dean gently thumbed his eyes open to study his pupils, giving Sam a few seconds' view of his brother's worry-creased brow, before, satisfied, he let Sam rest. Exam apparently finished, he shifted back to the handcuff with a comforting creak of leather and started picking the lock. The metal circlet rubbed against Sam's broken skin, a small hurt among many.

"Wasn' hungry," Sam murmured.

Dean coaxed the open cuff free and brought Sam's other arm carefully around. Another moment, and he'd unwrapped Sam from the blanket and hurled it aside, swathing his own jacket around his brother's body instead. "Yeah, can't really blame you on that. No offense, dude, but it's pretty foul in here." Sam could just picture him wrinkling his nose at the slop bucket and almost smiled. Dean tucked the jacket's sleeve under his temple. "So, what, they just wanted a roomie? A guinea pig for shock therapy?"

"She liked me." Sam snorted wearily. "Wanted her very own hero."

Dean mimicked his reaction. "You tellin' me you got taken down by a lovesick teenager with a thing for bondage?" He'd moved down Sam's body, and Sam was almost curious enough to open his eyes to see what he was doing, when Dean muttered, "I should start carrying an extra pair of socks for you, Cinderella." A few moments later, socks warm off his brother's feet were pulled over his freezing own.

Sam was pretty sure the déjà vu was from another time Dean had gotten him out of a cage. He wrinkled his nose but couldn't seem to bring himself to care any more than that. "Girl with a _taser_," he stumbled out a correction.

"Right, right. And tell me again why I just let her and Igor go?"

Sam sighed. "She's sick, Dean. She needs help, not revenge."

"Sick is choosing you over me, dude, not zapping and snatching you because she has the hots for you." Dean had slid back up to his chest and was once more supporting Sam's head with one hand, rubbing along his arm with the other. Still trying to warm him up and ease the shaking, which must have at least partly been from the cold and stress because already Sam was a lot more relaxed. "And what's with everyone wanting to stick you in a cage, huh? Explain that one to me."

"I'm sorry I disappeared on you again, man," he whispered in a voice that was almost steady, if thick with his fatigue.

Dean's pause was only the slightest hesitation this time, but Sam caught it. "Maybe it's the height. Force you to squeeze down into something small."

Sam pried his raw, tired eyes open. "I wouldn've jus' left like that, Dean. I'm not gonna do that t'you again."

Dean was focused on the task at hand, his tone absent. "I still think it's the hair. People keep mistaking you for a sasquatch." He frowned, leaning closer. "Dude, what happened to your hair?"

Sam flinched, rocked by a head-to-toe shudder, eyes stupidly tearing at the reminder. Dean immediately leaned closer, concerned, and Sam took advantage by hooking clumsy fingers around the edge of his flannel shirt. "If I leave again," he said, a little desperately, "I'll talk to you first, I promise."

Dean shifted away and began to lift him to sitting against the bars. "Whatever, dude," he answered in the same faux casual tone, eyes flicking over to Sam and then away again. "I _can_ survive without you, you know."

Sam chuckled weakly. "Who's the one who keeps ending up in a cage, man? Maybe I need _you_."

Crouched in front of Sam, Dean's head suddenly dropped. He was perfectly still for several long seconds…except for the thumb moving up and down the back of Sam's neck. Sam held his breath.

And then Dean looked up at him, really looked at him, mouth curving in a small, rueful but real smile. He held it long enough that Sam got his answer, then slid his hand to his brother's shoulder and patted it absently while studying his shaking legs, then the stairs behind him. Dean made a face as he turned back. "Think I'm gonna have to carry you out of here."

Sam groaned.

"What are you complaining about, dude? All you have to do is enjoy the ride." But Dean was so very careful with him as he eased him out of the cage and over a shoulder.

It was as awkward and uncomfortable as Sam had imagined, made only a little better by Dean's steady stream of complaints as he labored up the stairs. It left Sam with a dizzying look down, and he finally shut his eyes and tuned the world out until he was in the car again, wrapped up in two blankets and stuffed comfortably into the corner of the front seat, Dean watching him from not two feet away.

"Y'all right?"

Sam gave him a wan smile. "Tired. Hungry. Sore."

"Here." Things had started to blur alarmingly again, but Sam felt the bottle's rim at his mouth, the slight tangy smell of Gatorade in his nose.

He gulped half of it down before turning away, his toes bumping against something. Sam just made out the vague shape of his boots and balled-up clothing tucked in by his feet when a spoonful of something warm and savory touched his lips. Sam blinked out the windshield, noticing the neon glow of some gas station mini-mart for the first time. He hadn't even realized they'd driven anywhere.

"Eat the soup, Sam."

It was more than a little embarrassing, being fed by your big brother. But the hands curled in his lap under the blankets were useless, weak and as out of his control as the rest of his body, and Sam was too tired and hungry to care. If Dean couldn't help him when he needed it, there was no one else in the world who could.

The thought was big and important, and Sam knew he should think about it more, but his brain was finally shutting down along with the rest of his nervous system. He was pretty sure he wouldn't even make it through the soup at this rate.

He wasn't quite sure how far he got or when he really stopped eating, just heard Dean's amusement as he said, "Yeah, get some sleep, Sam. I'm just gonna drive for a while."

Cold steel bars gave way to cushioning vinyl in Sam's senses. This was where he'd been raised, where he was safe, where his family was. His home—his life. And, honestly, it wasn't a bad one at all.

He went to sleep to the rumbling lullaby of his youth.

00000

"Seriously? You paid twenty-five bucks a pop for _that_?"

Tilting his head back, Sam gave him one of the million _you're such an idiot _looks he seemed to keep stockpiled just for Dean. "That's pretty cheap, man—I only got that deal because Jess's hairdresser liked me."

Dean lit up at that. "Liked you? Like, _liked _you? Jessica know about that?"

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure _Reynaldo _told her."

Dean winced. "And you let the dude cut your hair? Although, that might explain why you look like a girl…"

Sam twisted on the toilet seat to glare at him. "If you don't want to do this—"

"Settle down, Don King. I said I'd do it." Dean pushed him back down with a hand on his shoulder. "I never cut it too short, do I?"

"No," Sam admitted, grudging.

Dean examined the butchered head tactically, decided on a plan of attack, and started snipping. "Dude, you have no idea how much grief Dad gave me for that when we were kids. He always wanted you regulation short like me."

Sam, thawing, turned just enough to give him a curious look. "You never told me that. What changed his mind?"

Dean squinted, assessing again, and decided he was on the right track. "I'd remind him Mom always liked your curls."

Sam's defiance melted like cotton candy. "She did?"

Dean shrugged, continuing to cut. "I don't know, probably. But it worked." He just caught Sam's soft-eyed look in the corner of the mirror and hid a smile of his own as… "Done, princess." Dean pulled the towel off Sam's shoulders and nudged him between the shoulder blades.

Sam barely spared him a grimace before he was turning and leaning toward the mirror.

The hair in front would take a while to grow back; there was no fixing that. But with the other side cut short to match and both tapered, Sam still had some symmetrical bangs. More of his face showed than Dean could remember seeing in a long time, but he could put up with that.

There was a long, worrisome pause. Sam had been a little hard to read since the whole cage thing, although Dean was pretty sure he saw a peace there he hadn't in a while. And that Sam would kick his ass if Dean voiced one more time that he should've known Sam wouldn't just take off on him again. If Sam was threatening him again, things had to be okay, even if his little brother remained quieter than Dean preferred. Right?

Sam suddenly smiled, even his eyes alight with it. "I think you missed your calling, bro."

Dean dumped the towelful of clippings down his back, then dashed out of the bathroom before Sam could retaliate.

But on the other side of the door separating him from his healthy, happy, and _there _brother, Dean was grinning wide.

**The End**


End file.
